I just remembered it was July 4. Independence Day for the U.S.A. Is it bad that nationalism can have the effect of sickening me? The U.S. is not a bad place to be all things considered but I have a hard time believing it is the greatest nation in the world. Especially when many proclaiming this have not been to anywhere else in the world. "But why should I?" they exclaim "The U.S. is the greatest nation in the world!" I'm listening to Bach to drown out my dad watching Trump downstairs. I usually only like writing when I am alone in silence but this will do. I can not escape the absurdity of the U.S.A. on a day like today. No, partying for me today. I am watching my little somewhat crazed nephew of one and a half years old. He cracks me up but he is also a terror of endless energy and audacity. It is for the better that we all stay in nothingness than to be brought into being with out any consultation but once they get here let us make the best of it! I am rooting for his mother to put him to bed early and that I don't hear a peep coming out of his room.
I wish to be stateless but if I could live anywhere it would have to be Paris, France. Maybe Denmark, or Sweden, or Berlin, Germany. It is really hard to tell what the "greatest" country would be. It all depends on the individual as well. One suited for Paris, Texas may not be suited for Paris, France.
I got a job. I will be working at a pizza shop. The wage will be keeping me at peasant status. I came across this quote the other day by Nietzsche:
"The best and dearest to me at present is still a sound peasant, course, artful, obstinate and enduring: That is at the present the noblest type."
So, I will continue to live as a sound peasant.
Except when I am golfing with my father. I found myself on the 6th or the 7th hole of this one particular course and I found myself lost in paradise. It was as if it was a mirage. I don't really have any business being on nice country clubs anymore but I did not play particularly well but felt transcended anyways. The sweet spot is bliss. I am liberated by a good shot. Sweet spots and scenery make for a great way to pass the time. If only I were not a peasant and could take this game more seriously.
I am sure I will be back on here in 3 months complaining about my new job and the peasant life. What can I do next is already a consideration. Sometimes I wish I was back as a student or a free wheeling, free spirited poker player. Those were the days and they may not ever get better. I only decay more as time goes by. Actually, the only time I really regret was my tour of duty as a multinational corporation sales rep turned alcoholic. Those were dark days. There were still some bright spots but multinational corporations are places where people like me go to die.
So, I must continue living as a sound peasant. I consulted Cioran on what one must do. Bach and Dostoevsky was the solution and of course writing.
"Our works, whatever they may be, derive from our incapacity to kill or to kill ourselves."
I like what he has to say on suicide too. It is so true that I love having the option to drink, to shoot heroin, to kill myself. Maybe I don't indulge. Maybe I indulge in all 3. For the time being I have found other things to do. I can not or will not kill myself at the moment so I better find some other things to do to deal with that. I will find other things to do. My mind does not like the thought of death and decay so will snap into some illusion or delusion. Life goes on. Existence in the absurd continues.
Does power make life better?
We are all going to decay and die but does power make that existence smoother?
The beautiful struggle some call it. The buddhists would say we must detach. We must not struggle. It is all striving for what? It is all illusion.
My nephew has a backside full of poop. I will likely die before him but no one knows. The fragility of life can strike at any moment. It makes me want to race fast cars and travel the world. Live dangerously and climb mountains as Nietzsche would say. One of my favorite days on this planet was watching the sunrise and climbing a mountain. Today, I have pastry and french roast coffee and Bach and writing on liquidpoker with my nephew flying around like a gnat. I love this gnat but he is a gnat regardless. I have many days that I have enjoyed on this earth. Many days that I have not enjoyed. There was the day I won $20,000 in Rosario, Argentina and got scalped 5th row center line for Argentina v Brazil. That whole trip was a dream. I love Argentina. If only my Spanish were not better. If only, if only, if only. So many "if only."
I am the sound peasant living my life. Suicide is great to keep in the back pocket or maybe somewhat hidden in a filing cabinet somewhere. I am the sound peasant that wants more. I wish to go to beaches and get a better 3 wood. I wish to meet today's LP. I wish to reunite with yesteryear's LP. In all honesty, I need some friends. Phone calls do not amount to much. Nothing like sitting outside at a cafe in a cool early autumn day. Taking a walk through the city. Having a seat at a welcoming patio. Coffee and cigarettes. What an amazing combination. I no longer smoke. I no longer wish to smoke. I am only a slave to psych meds today but obviously I still think about smoking cigarettes, I still think about marijuana, red wine, champagne, mdma, cocaine, mushrooms, heroin. I don't need comfort in the form of a substance today. Bring me reality. Illusion is unavoidable but bring me reality. I don't want to die. What can make me immortal even if it is not real? I want the the blue pill, please give me the blue pill. I want the blue pill, please give me the blue pill! Just a moment before I wanted the red pill but it is too much. I am weak. Ok, ok. Now, I would like the red pill. I am ready.....................
Walked in the door after 13 hours covering the general medical wards and say hi to my gf Sonya.
Sonya: "How was cover?"
Me: "Quiet, I only saw 1 patient in 13 hours and they died"
Sonya: "Fuck"
Me: "Yeah, they have end-stage interstitial pulmonary fibrosis. I got called to set up the clonazepam infusion because he was end-of-life care and he was pretty agitated. Spent 40 minutes on the phone to palliative setting up the pump. Last 30 seconds of the phone call and the nurse tapped my shoulder to tell me not to worry, he'd stop breathing".
Sonya: "Whoah, fuck"
Me: "Yeah it was pretty full on"
Sonya: "Do you know what this means?"
Me: "? what"
Sonya: "PERFECT K/D ratio!"
Sometimes terrible humor is the only thing that can cheer you up after an awful on-call. Thankfully she's the master of dark humor.
I don't speak falsehoods, I am sober, I am mentally healthy, and I am physically healthy. I live on about $1,000/month. Sometimes a bit less and sometimes a bit more. My parents are covering that for the time being. What am I lacking? Income, friends, and creative works of art. We have been over the income. I could be doing a better job at searching for one. I feel guilty that I am taking advantage of my parents. Friends can be a tough one. I have a ton of great friends in Pittsburgh, PA. If you have been following along I don't live there anymore. It has been tough making friends here. I haven't really been up for any meetup.com stuff. I have only sporadically been going to AA meetings. It seems a lot tougher this time around. When I got clean and sober in Pittsburgh over 3 years ago I knew no one in that city and seemed to get together some friends pretty quickly but I don't think that is entirely true. I am mostly happy just hanging out with the pets and watching tons of Netflix. Netflix and YouTube videos. I would like to discuss some of the stuff I am watching. I am also reading a fair amount. I liked when Loco suggested I read "Denial of Death" to "overcome my roadblocks." That was a fun project. I feel like there is still a lot I would like to discuss about that and on how to live life. I got back into some Sartre the other day too. The sum of my actions is a guy that lives in his parent's spare bedroom watching Netflix and YouTube videos hoping something stimulating will pop up on Liquidpoker.net. I don't think we have full freedom in choosing what we do with our lives. Our essence is not completely malleable. However, we are defined by what we do. I am a jobless bum that spends too much time on the internet. It is like I am not really an adult. One thing that I know is that I am not miserable. So, in many ways I am choosing this life because I know I am not miserable. I watched "Blue is the Warmest Color" last night and thought it was an excellent film. I crave a relationship like that. I crave my own version of Emma. Sometimes these things seem so far away. Another thing is the creative works of art. I always feel at my best when I am creating in someway. My friend was teaching me how to paint in Pittsburgh and there is really nothing here so far. I may look back into doing Improv or getting a legit stand up set together or trying to be a bit more inventive and get a short story in the works. Just something to get those creative juices going. I realize this has all been one big block of text. Oh well.
Need to trade Winner (Ipoker) for Skrillby Defrag, June 26
UPDATE:
need 530, offering 605$
Hey,
need to trade Ipoker cash (winner poker), since I cant cashout (Poland is blocked) for cash at Skrill/PartyPoker.
Got 605$ exactly, will trade for 560$ to Skrill/PartyPoker. Would prefer to receive the transfer first (obviously), back transfer might take a day or two since I have to make an affiliate payemnt request.
Thanks.
So it looks like you can get a pretty good supply of Jurema and Mimosa Hostilis online. A skilled chemist, or someone who was patient and had a steady hand would easily be able to distill pure DMT. The conventional solution is to use lye (of Fight Club acclaim) and Naptha (which is a soap).
Using just these two chemical ingredients it seems you can extract pure smoke-able DMT.
Personally as someone with a scientific mindset it seems like this might be a good idea...
On the other hand, this approach doesn't agree with me. Using just vitamin C pills and lemon juice (which are safe) you can extract a lot of DMT and create an extremely potent ayahuasca brew.
This preparation is actually as simple as treating water with crushed up vitamin C and lemon juice. Then you boil the ingredients 3 times (for saturation reasons) in the prepared water. This yields a very potent ayahuasca.
Roughly $10 of ayahuasca prepared this way lasts a long time. Since the ingredients are legal and can be purchased online, the accessibility is very convenient. I am committed to using them for physical training. So far I am quite happy with the ayahuasca solution against the DMT-only solution.
DMT seems to be very powerful. I have so far gotten much better experiences with the ayahuasca method than DMT-only. It may be better to care for your body.
I do not recommend mixing ayahuasca and mescaline, although the Peruvian torch is legal and is indigenous to same the geography.
I think the ayahuasca-diet is better than DMT-only and I am getting some good results this way. DMT seems to be a very powerful substance to be respected. I recommend the ayahuasca diet over DMT-only and not specifically for safety reasons.
I am actually surprised to be recommending this because I would suggest using Peruvian torch over San Pedro cactus. This seems to be a contradiction. The Peruvian torch is smoother and more drinkable with a more pleasant high.
Ayahuasca can be a bit unpleasant but I think this is good for the user. There seem to be more questions of moral irresponsibility regarding DMT than mescaline. Ayahuasca seems to be the recommended solution from mother nature, therefore if we are in doubt this is the best avenue.
I thought I would not say something like this, but I cannot see any reason to get "higher" than ayahuasca.
I would say all of my blogs I just have some thoughts on my mind and get them down on paper. Formulate them if I can. PuertoRican suggested I add pictures to my blog. So, I am going to do a blog of pictures. I don't take a lot of pictures but here are some.
This is Syd the Kid (Sydney) on my bed. I write a lot about The Kid and my bed. I love my bed and spend too much time in it. Syd the Kid does to. He is my friend and companion. A great part of my day is taking long walks on the beach with him and throwing toys into the water for him to retrieve.
Next are the cats. Seb the Reb (Sebastion) is the black and white one and Pee Kee (Pico) is the grey and white one. These are the tricksters in the house. Seb is like a weird, ornery guy but he loves to sit in my lap. Pee Kee is just a wildman always searching for food and critters. Seb was the first one to catch a lizard though.
I really like this door. The architecture and charm in downtown Charleston is unrivaled except for maybe Paris and New Orleans. I am sure there are other small cities in Italy and many other places that I do not know about. The point is the old houses, the ironwork, the gardens, no skyscrapers or any building larger than a church it all adds up to a very charming and magical city. I don't go in to the city much because I am afraid of not being able to find parking and I am broke so I can't really afford any of the nice restaurants or nice things. The cream, the red, the black lion knocker and the lantern I just love this photo.
So, I can not afford to be downtown. I have not checked how close I could get if I had a decent job. It may be far North where it can start to get dangerous. I am all for not yet gentrified areas but I don't really want to hear gunshots either. I live with my parents now in a suburb about 25 min. from downtown Charleston. It is in one of those nice developments. My dad was an executive in the steel industry. It allows them to support me and allows me to be lazier than I probably should be. I mean I am writing a blog write now instead of looking for jobs. My conscience feels pretty bad about that and it definitely hurts my self esteem. So, I will wrap this up. My parents live about 15 min. away from the beach. It is a lovely place to take a walk, people watch, take in the sounds. I love the water. I love the beach community. I can give the dog a walk on the beach and stop off at any number of great restaurants in my swim trunks with the dog. Here is a pic from Edisto Island. It is about 45 min. south of Charleston.
So, this is a takeaway. I don't apply to as many jobs as I should but where are all the decent jobs? I guess I have been in contact with Wake Forest University about going to get my Masters in counseling. I don't know if I want to do mental health or substance abuse and addiction. I still have to take my GRE and get letters of recommendation and all of that. That should not be too big of a deal. In the meantime I am just existing in Mount Pleasant (suburb of Charleston). I have my dog, I have my cats, I have the wondrous city which I never attend, and I have the beach which I go just about daily.
There is this character (Kirrilov) in this book I am reading (Demons) whose solution to the fear of death is to kill himself. Not only that he is open to taking the blame for crimes by writing a letter before he does it. That is just awesome. I love this book. Myself, I am just pretty ok with the fear of death. Most days it is repressed to a manageable level or not really a thought at all although it is always there simmering beneath the surface. It is what it is. It is fun for me to read about and talk about. After reading a book like "Denial of Death" it is hard to associate with people that are so strongly repressed, anchored, distracted. Don't tell me god is the solution. Please. We are not immortal. The name Picasso may be immortal but his consciousness is not. Even the paintings are quite fragile. Better than nothing. A whimper into nothingness. That could be what I have to show for all of this. No stoic death for me. A faint cry. A feeble plea. Grasping for something, anything. So, I better turn it around. I better be a hero! Without morality there is pain. Do I need Christ for morality? No. Why not get a job, get a god boss, get a god CEO, a god girlfriend and transcend? Because it is all a facade. But it works for some? No, no, no. I have to stand alone to some degree. It may be difficult but I have to do it. I just wish there were somewhere around here I could get painting lessons! (transcendence, immortality through works of art is what I crave. Even if I fall short it will be a worthwhile experience).
I slept in my own bed last night. If was phenomenal. I didn't shake the habit of sleeping too much though. I rollover and look outside at the light. I rollover and look out my door. I have no reason to get up besides picking up the dog from the veterinarian hotel. I don't think it's called that but wherever you take dogs to stay while on vacation. It is like sleeping in is ingrained in my brain at home while on vacation I was up at 8am everyday. Oh well, probably a bigger issue is that I don't like not having choice in shitting and I am afraid of death. There is an African tribe that adorns butt plugs to show the tribe that they don't shit. Really, we excrete a vile waste out of our control, our bodies are pathetic meat vessels, and most of us die a determinist death. Dostoevsky says in killing oneself we become a god. The hero accepts mortality. This is what we are told. People crave immortality. It is part of their repression of death. Everyone better be perfect or it challenges the immortality symbol. It sobers the whole crew but repression and delusion and distortion is stronger. All of my psychotic breaks boil down to an unrepressed fear of death, a fear of hell, a fear of nothingness, of no longer existing with a consciousness. Imagine every second of every day engulfed in chaos and fears of how it is all going to end. Anxiety run amok. Do I need hero narratives or can I accept the facts of life? Just as someone can overcome a fear of elevators it is probably possible to overcome the fear of death. Most of these ideas came from "The Denial of Death" by Ernest Becker. Really great book so far I have to continue reading it.
I am a worm. I am a worm who eats worms. I am a god worm. I bleed, I vomit, I shit. The most highly trained Navy Seal is still just a pathetic meat vessel at the end of the day. The bullets will still kill amongst a host of other things. At least the Navy Seal can kill his neurosis by killing the enemy and being a “hero.”
So, this blog post is going to be disjointed. The “Denial of Death” stuff just sort of came out. I took a trip to NYC and Valley Forge over a long weekend. I might just write about some points. Sitting in a car all day to get there was ok. I listened to some JRE and other podcasts. Michael Malice was good. Thanks whaam!. Conversation with fellow travelers seems to be the best way to pass the time. I found a gameboy unpacking but not Tetris. I used to love playing Tetris. If I had a Nintendo DS it would have been Chrono Trigger time.
On NYC:
We took a train in and got there relatively early. I love walking the streets. So many beautiful women. So many different flavors. That diversity is hard to come by. I think the percentage of attractive women is hard to come by as well. I haven’t been to Sweden or Brazil though. I love the Modern Museum of Art. I was getting lost in Cezzanne and Monet paint strokes. I got yelled at for getting too close to Starry Night. They have everything there. Beauty abounds in NYC.
On the yuppie costume, the yuppie life:
So, back when I was an Account Manager making like $60k/yr I had dreams of living in $3k+/month apartments, having wardrobes of designer clothes, and consistently going out for fine dining. So what I would do is buy expensive pieces of stuff so I have like 2 full yuppie costumes. It’s like I carry them around for special occasions. Today, I pretty much wear bermuda shorts and t-shirts every day and much prefer this uniform. So, I have gained some weight. I am looking like a bloated stockbroker in these clothes but they still fit. The damndest thing, I am at this fancy NYC restaurant and it feels right to be wearing this costume. It feels good. I am not really wearing a mask. The truth is my parents are covering the dinner but it is not necessarily hurting my self esteem. Living with them does, not having an occupation does, but for whatever reason that night I am feeling good. I am just a guy who has some nice clothes getting free rolled at a nice restaurant in NYC. I don’t have dreams of moving to Soho or Tribeca or Brooklyn anymore. I’ll put on the costume if the situation calls for it. I can’t fight every cultural battle but I would much rather take the dog for a walk on the beach and stop in to the local spot for a burger.
On weddings:
The best wedding I ever went to was not even a wedding. My sister had a marriage celebration and she was not even married yet. My mom tried her best to make it a reception with all the associated celebrations and my sister was like fuck off. It was just a dinner and then a bar crawl. My sister and her partner finally got married in a ghetto ass chapel that only included exchanging vows and 0 people. The only reason my sister even got married was to get on her partner’s health insurance. That is my kind of wedding.
After NYC I went to Valley Forge for my cousin’s wedding. It was like every other wedding ever except it was outside and I was in a wool suit in 90 degree weather. I wanted to wear what Indians wear to weddings but I couldn’t find anything in time. I am doing this in the future. This is one area where I will fight a cultural battle. If someone has their wedding outside I am wearing fucking Indian wedding attire.
It was good to see some family and it is great that my cousin is in love and has found somebody. I did not know many people at the wedding and had already talked a lot with my cousins the prior day. I don’t drink and did not feel like dancing so the “Party” section of the wedding was really boring. I went away from the loud music (and the wedding) and talked to friends on the phone. Maybe that makes me a bad guest but fuck it. Would I have a wedding if it guaranteed that I would make $100,000 in gifts? Would I have a wedding if it would please my family’s vanity? My ideal marriage is getting married to a stripper and doing heroine in the bathroom. No, that is just my knee jerk reaction to certain aspects of culture. I may have problems. I do have problems. Oh well, looking at this Monet above my computer calms me down and makes me happy so I will do more of that.
On cab drivers with life advice:
I had a cab driver yesterday that basically told me to find Christ, watch college football, get married, and have children. He told of his brother who he labeled as lonely that died alone to a diabetic incident. Then he rationalized and justified why having grandchildren was so great. The thing is he was 70 and had seen a lot. Where is the truth in this? Grandchildren probably are great. All the fun and non of the hassle. One has to have children in order to have grandchildren though. I don’t like the proposition of having children. I have no idea what I am going to be doing when I am 40-60 but sometimes the outlook looks grim. 60-80 seems even worse. That does not mean I should be going around having children as some sort of solution to this.
There is nothing like living vicariously through 18-22 year old college football players “going to battle.” The hero narratives are strong in sports. Reality tv. Gladiator games for the masses. A different kind of opium. No thanks.
Marriage is an interesting one. I would prefer to just have a loving partner. I would probably be the one getting married to get on her health insurance. The data shows partners get a little bit happier after getting married and then it tails off. The data shows bad marriages are incredibly miserable affairs but divorce obviously leads to some happiness. It does not seem like a good proposition.
Stories from the Emergency Room 1by doctorstu, June 05
I keep meaning to keep a journal of some of the stranger things that have happened in the emergency room this year and I figured I'd use this blog.
Case #1 - Almost dead woman with priorities
Pretty quiet morning in the high-acuity area when we get a call over the box. Pick up the radio and call all clear to proceed, EM says they have a ~50 year old woman, heroin overdose with GCS 3 who they've pumped with Naloxone but she's still struggling to not crash on them. Okay cool, see you in 5 minutes. Turn around a few times on my chair because I'm not on the resus team and wait to see what happens. She comes in virtually comatose with 2 lines already in and gets pumped with more naloxone. At this point I have a patient with DKA who needs attending so I go off for about 45 minutes.
I'm coming back from my DKA girl (who has subsequently gone to the bathroom, ripped her line out and absconded from the hospital because fuck me, right?) and I hear this ungodly screech:
"WHEEEEEEEEEEEERE'S MEEEE FUUUUUCKIN BAAAAAG!!!" and what looks like a hunched pile of rags shuffling through high-acuity.
No fucking way.
It's our heroin OD, she's up and she's PISSED she's been saved from her OD without her bag. Then here comes the kicker
"WHEN I WAKED UP IN OTHER HOSPITALS I HAD ME FUCKIN BAG!!"
10/10 priorities lady.
### Ask stu
Heroin OD a few days ago in resus.
Patient "I only took one hit"
Dr #1 "How much is a hit?"
Dr #2 "Ask someone"
Dr #1 "Who?"
Dr #2 "Ask stu"
Dr #1 "oh, yeah"
Me: ????
Go on some dates. If you like each other then fuck. Go on some more dates. If you still like each other get into a relationship.
This simplicity alluded me for many years. I don't know what I was thinking in high school. It is like that is where I should have learned this. In college I was probably a weird misogynist. I mean. Not really but I just thought women should have big asses and I don't even know. I did not date in college. I would rather play Diablo II or Warcraft III. I remember there was this girl from high school who told me she liked me in high school and basically made it possible to go hook up. I messed that up. That was my dating in college. I would run into girls I knew and have positive interactions but then just never follow up or go on dates. Then poker hit. I got all into the pick up artist bullshit at the time. I was all about "one night lays with dimes." I guess that was an adventure. I finally fucked a beautiful woman from a club. I remember feeling empty, anxiety that she is still in my bed. The scent of her hair on the pillow and watching her put on her black panties still stick with me to this day as blissful but it was kind of like existential crisis that anonymous same night lays aren't the holy grail of life. Why did I not want to date? Why always anonymous? To this day I get weary if the girl is too close. Never shit where you eat. I EAT EVERYWHERE!
I remember I finally asked this one girl out on a date I was real into. Man, she was sexy. Her reply, "No, I have to work tomorrow." Which it was in the morning on a business day. I just kind of nodded my head and walked out. No further questioning just nodded my head and walked out. I am weird.
Greatest poker payoff of my lifeby doctorstu, May 28
I decided to quit playing poker when I got into med school and, being surrounded by private school kids, never really brought it up or talked about it to anyone.
Fast forward about 6 years and I'm sitting at junior doc having dinner with other juniors and a few senior EM consultants when one of them asks me what I did before med. For some reason (and a few drinks) I was honest and told them I spent 2 years making a (very sketchy) living off poker. Cue an hour of questions.
Since then I've been cornered by two senior consultants who've asked me about my days playing poker because apparently 'card players would make the best EM docs'. Yesterday I had an informal talk with the director who more or less confirmed if I was to apply for a full time job in the ED next year I'd be a shoe-in.
Fucking poker man, opening doors everywhere.
P.s. LP nostalgia is huge, games look tight now tho, not such easy money these days =(
It is one of those moments in which I am called to write. So I do. I am officially moved in to my new location in Charleston, SC to a house full of boxes as of Tuesday. These boxes have been a travel through time. I find myself listening to a playlist from 2014 as I went more and more psychotic and alcoholic. Man, that was a rough time. I am giving away gaudy sweatshirts I was thrilled with and buying in succession in a time of hyper mania. Sometimes I am reminded that I have a serious mental illness. So, I do not have a doctor or a therapist and I have not really been going to many meetings down here. I think my only way out of suffering is to take on more responsibility. That is calling up on Medicaid, that is opening up a bank account so that my parents can pay my bills so that I can one day pay my bills. I am back in that zone. I think those 2 things get accomplished and a driver's license it is really time to just get back on the job hunt and actually all of this should be happening at the same time. It's like I am waiting to get all my AA meeting and fellowship all in line and it is just not going to happen on any short of a timeline. I much prefer walks on the beach and really it seems like anything at this point to AA meetings. That is not entirely true but it sucks not having any friends near by. Like I said in another thread though, I get to cleaning up these boxes and putting things in order and the suffering goes a way. I am overcoming the burdens of being! I get an occupation and the fragility of life seems a little less severe. I help someone at an AA meeting and the pangs of pain I may have felt an hour prior have dissipated. Maybe I am just happy on a limited amount of responsibility. To get my own place and to be in a romantic relationship takes new levels of responsibility. I think most would say it is fruitful. That is certainly one of my aims in life. It keeps coming back to me that my main aim in life is to help the suffering. The first occupations that pop out for that are therapist, monk, priest. It is like I want to go right to it. Fuck being a chef. Why do I want to help the middle class with there foodie bullshit gluttony? Why would I want to help multinational corporations with their share price? Ugh. I write this blog like every 3 months. My conscience is screaming at me to search for some jobs. Indeed.com here I come. Mother fucker I would rather write about burning the world to the ground or jumping off bridges!
If you guys got any bitcoin or other cryptocurrency questions shoot them out. I'm following the scene quiet closely so would have answers to most I reckon.
help tracking down a friendby HungarianGOD, May 25
Hey guys, I am trying to get a hold of a friend. Somewhat concerned something happened to him, probably it is nothing and I'm just being paranoid. His handle on pokerstars is Fakeorreal, he usually plays PLO on Pokerstars a few times a week at night (by Eastern Standard Time), usually on $2/$5 tables but could be anywhere in the range of $1/2- $10/$20. I was just curious if anybody has seen him playing online since May 19th. If you see him, please just shoot me a quick PM. I appreciate your help in advance.
~Nathan
I've never understood the global wave of sorrow spread through our society when a celebrity dies. I've always found it fake and wondered why would people abuse such events, are they really that ignorant and self-absorbed, don't they realize that outburst would hurt the closest to that very person? I get the whole attention whoring to show appreciation, but that always has the backfire effect for the ones that its aimed towards.
Last year Chris Cornell was playing in my city. I was contemplating if I should get last minute tickets as he was one of the few rock vocals who still do live shows and are alive and i truly enjoy listening to. I didn't, thinking he would be back the next year or the year after. Once artists come to my city, they always come back, there is something about the atmosphere of this city, something still quite incomprehensible to me. Another missed opportunity, sadly.
Grunge has always been some kind of a safety net to me. Somehow I find it easy to connect with and let my mind at ease while listening. When I heard that he died I truly felt sad and then immediately switched to disappointed when the news that he suicided hit the net. I must have read hundreds of posts of people expressing anger because he killed himself as if they have the right to choose for him what to do with his life. Artists, however, hold a great responsibility and especially artists whose work has actual value and whose work helps people get through tough times. I'm absolutely certain Chris Cornell's creations have given thousands of people something to hold on to when they've had nothing. So what should they be left thinking now? If he didn't cope with reality how are they supposed to? Hence the feeling of disappointment.
That feeling makes me as self-righteous as the people expressing anger, I'm aware of it. I believe a person should live up to his moral obligations regardless of his own emotions. If standing up to your own suffering would prevent the suffering of thousands, in some cases leading to the ceasing of existence, then it certainly should be worth it, after all our whole world is built on hope and withstanding through adversity.
I guess the lesson here is to experience new opportunities when available instead of forever missing them so that you won't be left with the bad taste of regret. And I guess the second would be to put others first... but I don't believe that to be true in all cases ... so fuck it.
I leave you with this masterpiece
P.S. This is the next case which shows how deeply misjudged depression in our ill society is.
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