My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

So, I have two problems regarding my writing. First, my hand is shockingly worse, my thumb feels practically dead. Physically, the words are getting harder to write, a new level of difficult. Second, the fact that I can hardly blog, let alone carry on a simple conversation, is astonishingly depressing. Being this depressed, it’s not easy to write anything decent, even if it takes six hours. I’ve never felt this kind of lonely.

A friend was over Saturday evening, my hand was so bad that I just couldn’t type to her. We finally ended up using the alphabet, which was pretty sad.

Following a report that, “God’s a sadistic fuck who let His only Son commit suicide for the press coverage,” God’s press secretary issued the following statement.

“God does in no way condone the act of suicide. Contrary to recent reports, Christ did not commit the act of suicide, but rather, an act of Free Will and Faith in His Father. God judges all, and judges Christ’s actions to be completely free of sin. None may question His judgment, because He said so. Amen.

Neither God, or Christ were available for further comment, as reports indicate that They’ve hopped a train for the coast, accompanied by the Holy Ghost.

Your hand is the dead weight dragging you down into nothingness. It’s cold and dark, lonely and empty. It’s lifeless life, you’re a living corpse filled with conscious thought. You sink slowly, quietly, waiting and wanting to hit bottom. You find no peace, no comfort, no end.

Endings used to scare you, but not anymore.

I have to say, I couldn’t be more disappointed in the way Battlestar Galactica ended. I cannot believe that such an intelligent, well-written, often spectacularly dark series ended like an episode of Touched By An Angel. It’s as if the writers said, “Idea! Rather than tie off all of our loose ends with smart writing, rather than, you know, tell a good story, let’s just answer every question with, God did it. We’ll mean this literally, and call it a day.”

Battlestar Galactica, yet another thing ruined in His name.

So, I’m back from the hospital. I could write about not breathing, and the ambulance, and the emergency room, and the needle currently in my foot, but I don’t feel like it just now. Maybe I’ll never feel like it, as these things kind of feel old, tired, written about in an infinite, tedious loop.

Right now, a friend and I are watching the end of Battlestar Galactica, which seems more important.

So, I’m in the hospital with a trache infection. I think it’s blatantly obvious that Kitty Jesus hates me. I’ll write more tomorrow.

Save for Anthem, I haven’t read much Ayn Rand, and apparently, I’m not missing anything. According to an excellent article by JF Quackenbush at EricRosenfield.com, Atlas Shrugged is one of the worst books ever written. This, of course, means that I absolutely have to read it, because that’s how I roll.

So, I think that until I have my NeuroSwitch, provided that it works, I’m going to quit the world of social typing. I’m going to put everything into one solid blog post per day, other writing projects, and little else.

Honestly, trying to type socially is getting to be depressing, it just reminds me how ridiculously slow I’ve become. I’m going to embrace solitude and give everything to my craft. I think it’s the best way to stay fairly sane.

My thumb seems to be getting progressively worse, my hand kind of feels like dead weight. At the moment, I’m rather lonely, uneasy. I’m often lonely, but this is worse because I physically can’t make it stop. I can’t type anything fast enough for a good conversation, people who are decent enough at the alphabet aren’t around. My going out assistant isn’t back yet, nor do I have a backup yet. I don’t get the NeuroSwitch for another two weeks, but I keep worrying that it won’t work. I can’t think of anything good or happy right now. كيفية لعب البوكر

I feel like much of this situation is my fault, and it’s possibly too late to fix things. I’m pretty sure I hurt my hand back in December when I checked myself into the hospital for depression and insomnia. I was depressed and not sleeping mostly because of my break-up with Sara. الرهانات I lost Sara because I made some bad choices last summer. It’s complicated and difficult to write, especially right now, but I broke two promises and they cost me. So, here I am, and it all seems so stupid. العاب استراتيجية اون لاين

There’s so much building up in my head, so much I want to write, but I can’t. Not right now.