I sit and wonder some time where they're gone?

Oh dear dying blog what could I tell you today?

They say journaling is good for your mental health.

All dem spellchecks can’t keep up with the modern world!

Journaling IS a word.

Well I journal in my head a million thoughts a day but that is not the same.

[Speaking of in my usual décousu style I kind of discovered I was better at chess actually when I don’t think too much.]

Well obviously that is not the same, in fact it is more part of the problem than part of the solution.

[another strange segue I got to get back to meditation some day soon]

Some of these many thoughts are good, some are bad, and some are just pure genius! :P

Anyway as I read my old blogs once in a while I am very proud of some of my stuff.

Mind you my pearls,

to use an expression I have used many times before, are buried in a huge mountain of manure, a shit ton of shit.!

I, who is so against editing and so pro flow of consciousness could certainly used to tweaking but like everything else in life I am nothing if not a self-centered narcissistic HOARDER.

But anyway as I have said from the very beginning, after I am gone this blog will be pretty well all that is left of me.

At 67 now, it seems like “after I am gone” could be any day now.

Hahaha I left the double now on purpose now since I seem to use now a lot now when I write anyway.

But yeah my signature is there anyway all my left tendencies and all my peculiar thinking how I have been formed and shaped for so many years, meandering through life and readjusting my positions as I go.

Sometimes it seems like I rehash the same old shit over and over but so be it, consider it the cost of flow of consciousness.

Sometimes I wish there was more in this blog, sometimes I wish there was less.

Still puzzled daily with this decaying mind of mine and even wondering lately if it is not decaying but has always been decayed.

This space cadet eternal mind of mine has always been there

(strongly associated to dissociation if I was to do some self psychoanalyses: disassociation to shelter myself from unbearable beatings and a harsh world for my tender soul)

So maybe I have always been stupid but now I am old enough to just realize it is what I said this week.

I had a good cry this week after I nearly got ran over by a car

thinking hell I haven’t been able to drive for the past 2 years 

and now I won’t even be able to fucking WALK.

I check the street I start crossing and somehow the spacetime continuum disconnects and nek minit I got a car on my ass.

And this is not the first time it happens. Sure I had headphones on but it happened again later this week and without headphones. 

Fuck how am I gonna survive Montreal where cars come from a different direction?

It took me over two years here to kind of get used to the opposite driving side.

And same yesterday at chess where my mind went totally numb and useless.

Sue had to remind me that I AM DIABETIC but still.
It’s like I know I can play a good game some times
but at others I am just living in a FOG.

Same with everything else these days.

I was thinking how hard it is to get Ritalin here in this country but in my case it might just be a Life Saver as important and necessary as insulin.

Anyway as always I am writing all this shit to myself again

You live alone You die alone.

But it’s supposed to be good fer ya they say.

For some odd strange reason even though everything is moot and pointless

 and nothing really matters anymore

it seems to be that my time blogging 

is more ‘productive’ than my time gaming

which is a question I won’t even ask comes June 2nd,

Pavlov Dog at your service here Blizzard!

Thanks for all the years of perfect dissociation.

Add a little music to that and Farrokh Bulsara was right again:

Nothing really matters

Nothing really matters, Anyone can see,

Nothing really matters,

Nothing really matters to me

Any way the wind blows... ♫♪♫

We are all prisoners here of our own device.