Try to Ruminate Peeps

I am a comptuer dentist with regard to customers, suppliers and co-workers -- always, ALWAYS pulling teeth. Funny since most of our clients are actually dentist offices. The idea of randomly picking a (blue, northern/coastal) city and relocating there is so appealing. Manifest destiny.

Although I'm chronically manic to the point of having these delusions of mediocrity several times in a single day, so I tend to eschew great ideas sans fruition.

I'm tired of my tack-spittin' bosses and co-workers. I'm very acerbic when feigning the role of man's-man; it makes me feel phony every time, and the brain actually says to me "what the FUCK are you doing" to which I reply "let me alone, just go back to pondering tits."

I have some savings. Maybe I'll just quit and live off of them for a couple months.

Also I'm weary of the feeling that the few friends I have are either thus because of guilt or lack of better things to do, or that I'm generally Daddy Warbucks when tabbing it up in the wee hours of the morning. Neither instance seems to nourish the old self-esteem, ill-conceived as the whole idea may be.

I don't know how else to be charming and entertaining without the aid of some foreign agent. Incessantly I question what it is about myself that's real and what is drug-induced. And I'm not even talking narcotic- or alcohol-induced moments. Just the usual Paxil-Wellbutrin cocktail that's been a part of my life for years.

Constantly I ruminate about what I have to offer others in regard to "friendship" and it's a short list that's produced when I don't factore in a penchant for the Lafayette drinking/music/place-to-be trend. What is it that makes one person earnestly want the company of another? Currently that requisite is so complex in my psyche that I'm dizzy. But ios it really complex?

I'm probably just in a state of perpetual adolescence -- worrying about popularity and what inane trends are in style that I must partake in to attain acceptance. It reminds me of a dialogue from Little Miss Sunshine:

Dwayne: I wish I could just sleep until I was eighteen and skip all this crap- high school and everything- just skip it.

Frank: You know Marcel Proust?

Dwayne: He's the guy you teach.

Frank: Yeah. French writer. Total loser. Never had a real job. Unrequited love affairs. Gay. Spent 20 years writing a book almost no one reads. But he's also probably the greatest writer since Shakespeare. Anyway, he uh- he gets down to the end of his life... and he looks back and decides that all those years he suffered- Those were the best years of his life, 'cause they made him who he was. All those years he was happy? You know, total waste. Didn't learn a thing. So, if you sleep until you're 18... Ah, think of the suffering you're gonna miss. I mean high school? High school- Those are your prime suffering years. You don't get better suffering than that.

So what if the most fruitful and developmental periods in you life have passed by without you realizing it? Are we just supposed to hyperanalyze those moments ad nauseum? And, I'd say I'm going through some pretty drastic periods of suffering currently. I just wonder how long it will be before I appreciate the wisdom I glean from the seemingly constant tumult.

My sincerest apologies to all of you for having subjected you to drunken Phillip. Just realize that it's a personal paradox: not drinking means you'll never see or know me. Drinking means you'll see me at what I could codify my worst. It's a personal cart and horse.

Anywhere and Anyone else but Here and Me

I'm going to try to include more pictures in every post I write, just to make it more an appealing reading endeavor.

If rollover minutes are any indication of lifelessness, then color me king. I now have over 3,000 rollover minutes stemming from months of not meeting my 450-minute allotment. I should be happy but that's just not my modus operandi. I'm more Eeyore.

Just through my own nature I'm trigger-happy to consider myself worthless, intolerable (intro- and extrovertly) and a social brigund-by-bribery. And I'm either hyper-absent-minded or just way more retarded than I give myself credit for.

I write this becaus I know those of you reading it know me well enough to realize that I am anything but "sorry for myself". If anything I'm enraged at myself for being in such a state, for not somehow being a stronger person that doesn't allow himself to get into such foolish mindsets.

I'm on the verge of becoming a 30 year-old bachelor with cats living in a one-bedroom shithole that frankly and sadly Im lucky to have. Maybe a nice coat of paint would cheer me up, or at least get me high. God bless lead-based (say it five times fast).

It's just been an unusually viceral period of shit for me lately Maybe if I started stealing stuff I'd feel a little less... sedated.

Currently Listening to:
Francine

28 Plastic Blue Versions of Endings Without You (2003)

Sweet Sweet Lady Vice

Lately my vices have been steering me towards an Adam Ant inclination to not drink or smoke at all because I have very little self-control once I start the liquid intake. Thusly my social relationships suffer, my bank account REALLY suffers, and my diet regiment suffers.

I can successfully give up all of the above, but the rub arises in that I don't socialize hardly as much if I'm not planning on partaking in the aforementioned saucery. I can go weeks at a time without drinking or doing anything remotely unhealthy, but during those times I barely even speak to anyone.

Conversely, I drink and feel compelled to talk to EVERYONE, regardless of the time or topic or appropriateness. In retrospect the blackouts are a blessing.

So the obvious answer is moderation, you would think. But I am not capable of moderation. If I have a buzz then I'm at a point of no return (my life in the 21st century has basically become a compilation of lyrics from the 80's). Frankly the people who say "well just stop when you get a buzz" irritate the semen out of me. Chemical dependence isn't something you can really understand unless you have it in some form or fashion, but I at least expect people to sympathize with the fact that certain things are exponentially more difficult for others than for themselves.

For instance, I smoke when I drink and sporatically on other occasions, but I've never had even the slightest problem giving up cigs for an entire month. I'm not such a jackass, though, to assume that it should be that simple for everyone only because it was my experience.

Ultimately I'm looking for advice here. My life has always been one of extremes, so much so that I may be incapable of happy mediums, no matter how many hours I sit under my happy-place tree.

Currently Listening to:
Sing-Sing

Sing-Sing and I (2006)

Out with the Old, Incompetent, Corrupt, Certifiable and Delusional, in with the New

On MSNBC right now I'm watching coverage of the induction of the 110th Congress and I'm getting misty. Honest-to-dog misty!

Nancy Pelosi is now third in line from the presidency, so the very real possibilty exists that she could become the first female president should congressional investigations go where they likely will and definitely should.

John Boeher (outgoing majority leader) just passed the gavel to a liberal from San Francisco, Pelosi, and for a woman in her late sixties she looks pretty good! Or maybe the thought of a female speaker of the House just gives me a big rubbery one.

Are you upset Republicans? Crying? Can I taste your tears? Mmmmmm yes... drown me in your sadness! Suck on a giant candy made of failure and rejection! Schadenfreude! Champion minority rights now you hypocritical ass plugs!

How does a woman with such power make you feel? Awww... intimidated? Did your penises shrivel up and go inside you? Well, just go out and buy a bigger truck, a bigger gun, kill a very small animal, hire a male escort and score some crystal meth. It's your panacea!

Oh Jesus, she's talking about pay-as-you-go, raising the minimum wage and throrough ethics reform! If I weren't at work right now Id totally be playing with a big spicy boner.

It's been a long time since I had a little hope for our country. Now, llet's bend that monkey-in-chief over a barrel and run a train on him.