thanksgiving

The computer's a little foreign to me lately. It's been awhile, for me. I started a new med to replace my loxapine.  Hope it works. Thanksgiving was a quiet success. The kids were cute and quite well behaved. It was great.

Bitter

  Embittered eyes gaze.
Languished  and embalmed,
In hatred of self and position.
I will only find the quiet of the midnight,
In the streets of my misery's cage.
I can see a barbers pole through the rusted bars.
Of a prisoner of mind in matters, only I can know.
I fear you in your glare at my hypocrisy of a life in chosen pursuit.
I choose happiness in my pool of self pity.
A buoy, a ring with to swim towards a receding shoreline, is what I desire.
A finding in truth, a look into a fragile state, and bitter is it's taste in life.
I believe in the sweetness of hope, a real rare commodity to share, life in love.

Loxapine

  I have found Loxapine to be a good medicine to control many symptoms. Ones that I have struggled with over the years. In my review I would give it a B+ in symptom control. I have a mouth like the Sahara , but otherwise things are working pretty good. I have become more distant over the last 8 months. I'm going to try a new medicine with named Prephenazine. Maybe it will work, Maybe the loxapine is the cause of my worsening of symptoms. Then the med change would be great. Well I'm not going to hold my breath I have been disappointed so much over the last ten years. It would a appear that disappointment is my only appointment. I know that is sad. I'm bound and determined to win this little battle, and take back a little bit, and bit by bit, I will claw my way forward. I will come out of these crushing feelings somehow, and merely the when is the question. I have hope that I will succeed.

Tripping & Stumbling

   I find myself staring out the window with increasing frequency. I do this sometime for hours on end. I know my illness is taking a turn for the worst. I do know it will not reach "worst" as I sometimes fear. The medicine & family will keep me from that. My consuming fire to protect that which I love is still firmly in place. I look blankly at this computer screen. I don't know what I'll write or what havoc will spill forth from my cracking egg-shell head. I just know if you are out there. If you're suffering, your not alone. I know things will get better eventually. I can't possibly have anymore breaks in water pipes, backed up sewers, lightning strikes, flat tires, broken vans, sinking into the ground vans. Sections of house fall off. and vermin to eat the pipes. Christmas flat-broke. shortage on property taxes. and gutters break away & off the house. Ice dams and holes dug in the yard by my dogs. A dog who is squeaking instead of barking. Then proceeds to bark like a hell-hound. Deaths in the family from cancer.  I am a complete charity case. I have know shame left. I'm a broken man.
   I only can find solace that my reprieve will come. It's the longest run since 2005. I'm turning to drinking and self medicating regulation. I don't recommend it. I'm getting desperate for the upswing. At least I have good bourbon, semi-good brandy, and crappy whiskey, with another hurray to cognac. I also have one bottle of beer that's been in there for six months. I'm generally not a heavy drinker. I also quit smoking my pipe about four years ago. I'm not saying I don't miss it, I do. I really do. hmmm funny thing is that I'm considering a rejoining the work force on this one. I won't but still. It's nice to know I have another vice to go back to. I'm going to die, someday. I guess that ones my choice about the when. My illness will let up, so it will not come to it. I have a family to take care of. I can't be selfish, and I may hate myself, but I have to continue though. Tripping and stumbling the whole way.

Shock paddled experiment

   In the bleak lights, of dawns caress over a slowly desolate town.
I find a burgeoning excitement of town life.
In a strange electric paddled shock to a sleepy morning.
I see people crawling forth dog on leash, ready for a new day.

In the back of the real

   railroad yard in San Jose
               I wandered desolate
in front of a tank factory
              and sat on a bench
near the switchman's shack.

A flower lay on the hay on
              the asphalt highway
-the dread hay flower
                  I thought-it had a
brittle black stem and
             corolla of yellowish dirty
spikes like Jesus' inch long
                   crown, and a soiled
dry center cotton tuft
          like a used shaving brush
that's been lying under
              the garage for a year.

Yellow, yellow flower, and
           flower of industry,
tough spiky ugly flower,
                   flower nonetheless,
withe the form of the great yellow
              Rose in your brain!
This is the flower of the World.
                                                   Ginsberg, San Jose, 1954
          

Geo done is a Geo don't for this guy, But Heroin addict's are nice

I tried Geo done eight years and it sent me into a delusional spiral that was unparalleled in my medicated history. I was under the delusion that my wife was cheating on me with the person visiting from Germany, staying in our house. I had thought's of great sadness, and all encompassing depression. I very much wanted to end my life. I know however the key words to avoid saying to mental health people. Wanting to commit suicide is one big one. If you think I'm joking they'll lock you up in a heartbeat, and dope you into a drooling mass. I made that mistake once, once mind you. It's all it took to end that way of talking. I mean you can think it, all you want, just don't say it out loud. Unless you want a hospital stay. My doctor was really cool and knew me very well. He gave me a choice, a room with a view for a couple of nights at a hospital, could come and go as I pleased. Then there was the other with the incarceration in the mental dept. for at least three days. I chose the regular hospital room. I spent my time thinking and writing, and drawing.
   I was in the company of a very nice heroin addict, who had hurt himself on purpose at the rehab center for the morphine that he could get at the hospital. It was barely enough to keep the edge off, he would say as he used all the morphine right away. Then he would ask for more, and get into an argument with the nurse, because he couldn't have anymore. He did work it so the new shift knew nothing about the disagreement, and would give him the morphine, rather than deal with him. I found it to be highly diverting, and sad to say entertaining. He would smile and laugh after they left. He regaled me with stories of horror and hilarity. A strange combination I know.
    I had come to this place because of inadequate medication and poor choice on my part to make a med change before the holiday's. I learned my limits though, and it was a very unhappy experience. Up point however in this whirlwind, my youngest daughter was born in a clear point in the madness which really took affect about one month later. Morale to the story never change your meds before holiday's, and your child's birth. By the way Geo done sucks. It caused a fire to be lit in the form of a delusion that I could not get a grasp on. It is part my fault, and the medicine just did't work for me.

Mahalo.