Previously I wondered if it was ethical to be happy in a dystopia. I think I've paid my negativity dues. They are contained in this blog. For my more longterm survival I have to focus more on positive stuff now. Also was thinking that in order to stick with the longterm effort of writing fiction books I will really need a more positive outlook.

Somewhat related I think I need to believe in my audience. Or, well, I should say invent an audience that actually gets what I'm saying as I suppose I'm doubtful any such real audience exists. I need to believe one does to have a chance.

This blog contains such negatives. I have to finish going through the whole damm thing. Briefly summarizing. I'm procrastinating. Otherwise must turn to the positive.

Is there much?

There's some. Enough I think. Better not try to list them though. May find there's less than I think! But as I lay in the dark at night I'm trying to find one to think about as opposed to thinking about disasterously not falling asleep. I need to daydream about silly things. But what?

Remember as boy and young man would dream about being a famous sports player. I'd daydream at night in bed about hitting homeruns, dunking, running for touchdowns. I'd daydream about making incredible music. I'd daydream about the interviews I'd give, lol. I'd daydream about women. Being cool/desirable, etc. (Not talking sex here...) I don't know what else.

....I could dream about finding an elf in the bit of wood by my house.

I remember my daydreams in elementary school. So out of control. Today they'd call it ADD. Dreaming of flying. Don't remember what all exactly I dreamed of.... I remember imagining a tiny man running across my desk, down my ruler to my seat, imagining it was a part of some strange other world the man was on....

Must find such things as opposed to endless negatives that instead fill my mind now.... The scythe. Closing the office door....

I could dream of how great my future children will be? Except it's looking I very well won't have any which is a nightmare. I could dream of stories surely. Surely. Surely. I could go over past fiction stories I've read. Just finished Vernon Vinge. A Fire in the Deep. Had read it at least 10 years ago and totally forgotten having done so. Took more than 100 pages to remember. Ending was a huge letdown. Lots actually didn't like. The beginning was good. The pack intelligence. But it didn't really deliver. In retrospect was predictable that it wouldn't.....

Now some Clifford Simak story which is starting out quite absurd. The antagonist is literally called "The Evil". Was going back over Salvatore's Drizzt series. One thing it really had going for it was a high vocabulary which gave it an air of authority thus making it seem more real. Not just some run of the mill Joe Shmoe slapping some stuff together, no, here's a man saying a bunch of words high fallutin words. And tiddah! Menzobarranzan exists in a way Simak's world just doesn't. ...although actually Simak's vocab is full of words no one would ever normally use.... I'm perhaps missing the real special quality of Salvatore's writing... But anyway, within fiction there is a place to go, instead of thinking about scythes and insomnia, etc.

Bought and planted hostas, ivy and mums today. Also some outdoor solar lights. Yesterday bought a few more concrete things. Nothing there to daydream about.

Can I daydream about playing the cello? I guess maybe I have a little here and there.... But it's more a thing of just enjoying actually doing....... Without dreams of being famous, what does one daydream about? Have to work on that.... Daydream about making people happy. Daydream about making the world a better place. Of course. Not about obtaining power/fame. Those are the worst people.

The stepping stones by my house, 6 months ago? 10 months ago? I couldn't run across them two at a time. Trying to do so hurt my knees and for that matter my back at times. Now I can easily. Today was jumping from two stones away up onto the deck, just while working around the yard. Just jumping because it felt good, felt so good to have back such agility, to be able to just take off and fly for a moment. As a child and young adult I was constantly taking off and jumping up stairs as far as I could and so on.

Have this back because I've been jogging at a 2% incline on the treadmill about 6 days a week. Have been doing so for maybe 3 weeks now?? Previously was slowly working into it except running less often and at a greater intensity. And that definitely did not work as well.

Have to get daily exericse, the key being to lessen the intensity so that I can manage to do so. It's especially difficult with the 14 hour night shifts, dealing endlessly with death, etc. So hard to exercise on top of that. The key now has been to keep it "comfortable" or I should say, on the edge of comfortable, where my breathing doesn't quite elevate. Still can carry on a conversation but maybe usually would rather not. Just running 0.5 to 1.5 miles followed by 10 to 20 minutes of "comfortable" weightlifting. For weightlifting to be "comfortable" and yet not useless, means there must be some volume, which so often has caused me insomnia in the past. But with blueberry smoothies I'm not having insomnia.

So health is good then.

Work is running me down lately. I think the main problem. (Of so many problems). Is that my empathy is waning. Feeling like most of these people are sick because they were mentally lazy and simply didn't do the things they needed to do to not get sick. Basically I'm thinking like a rightwinger about things. I need to remember that my own family members and myself also at times have done some of the same behaviors they've spent their life doing.

This lack of empathy is making the work unrewarding. Need to overcome it, stop demonizing... or "uglyizing"? my patients.

I could maybe think that my patients are:
1. Slowly committing suicide on a subconscious level and deserve empathy on that basis.
2. Live in a society where disgusting harmful food is usually the only choice. Even at the hospital cafeteria this is the case actually. When people are surrounded by such how can I hold it against them for eating it?
3. Fooled into thinking the doctors know what the hell they're about when they tell them to take all those pills.
4. Don't bother to get knowledgeable because when you get down to it, this life sucks so bad who really wants to live to be very old anyway?

Hmmmm, I'll have to work on it.

At the same time I simultaneously have the opposite problem, where I feel too much empathy for the pain and suffering of some of my patients. Such didn't used to weigh me down so much. I think it's my own inconsistency from patient to patient which is making it harder to deal with. To stop judging probably would be good. Yet I've been doing this long enough it's hard to not immediately categorize people. What are the categories?
Very generally:
1. Drug seekers.
2. Mentally lazy people who need to educate themselves about how to maintain good health.
3. People who actually deserve my empathy.

I usually have at least one drug seeker a shift. And the mentally lazy make up the majority of my patients. Really have to find some other way to think about it. Remember that I myself am far from being perfectly "mentally unlazy". And I could relate some of how I feel about food to how other people feel about drugs I supppose.

Never heard it before. Sounds good. So much doom and gloom about Barrett yet he lived to 60 and spent his time gardening, puttering about, living off royalties. Getting fat off pork chops even. Looks like he had a charmed life.

Roger Waters though is sad. Those epic dark albums that he was primarily responsible for. Nothing else in history compares actually. Yet it seems nobody can stand his guts. How does one make so much good art over so many years with people who hate your guts?

I can't decide who's really at fault though. Did Water's unfairly demonize all these people around him or was he just truly surrounded by shit?


Sarcastic rage. Imagine someone like the lead 'singer' growing up in a conservative household, getting beaten on a daily basis, constantly getting lectures about how they need discipline, feeling that they're being forced, being coerced, being controlled through fear, to act in a manner that has absolutely nothing to do with who they actually are.

"smack!"

"What was that?" asks Jo.

"Nothing." I reply.

"No, I want to know what that was. You can't just go around violently smacking your fist into your hand and then refuse to tell me why."

"(sigh) OK if you must know so bad that was me way back in Los Alamos on my last day, in the meeting with those three demons. That was me forever changing ... ........'s world as I made my way to the door for the privacy necessary to beat the three of them to a bloodly pulp. It still occasionally just pops into my head now and then...."

"Yes, and then you'd still be in jail right now. And/or have a criminal record...."

"Milan Kundera in his book The Joke had his life similarly destroyed and for decades he plotted revenge just to find that the person/s didn't even remember what they had done. He said the only real revenge would have been if he had immediately jumped up over the desk and punched the guy in the face."

"...of course if I had done so... I would indeed still be in jail today. I'm too big. Too much larger and athletic to be doing that sort of thing, as if there's any size small enough to make it ok. ("haha")"

"...it just pops into my head now and then. No philosophy it seems will change that."

"...what else?"

"A giant scythe cutting people in two. Then slowly singing through the air. The POV is at the end of the handle looking out at the blade. Trees, grass, twilight flies by as the scythe forever sings."

I fear to speak of such things publicly lest the perpetrators are indeed someday murdered by some other person they've wronged. I could end up a suspect as a result. Yet Kundera wrote a somewhat popular book about the same subject.

In this world where there is nothing but demons, there is no reason to create anything not very clearly devoted to merely surviving. And I think that's why I've quit trying to write. It coincides with the loss of what few friends I had.

..I say "demon" yet I go to work and get along just fine with everyone. I don't dislike my workmates. I don't fear them. The same with my neighbors. So why do I say everyone's a "demon"?

Maybe somewhat a failure of language.

Maybe I suspend my understanding of what they are at the 'necessary' times.

There's 20, 30 people on this street. Probably all, or at least mostly, are truly good people. Yet, I might speak a few words to just a few per month. That alone is plenty to make this a demon world. And a demon world is a world full of demons.

At work, I don't actually have enough in common to do stuff outside of work with others. At best I could play sports with some guys. But they live far away, schedules don't coincide, etc. I don't know.

I can't really fault them. I can't fault anyone so much really. Yet in the end, I see no reason to strive towards the goals I once set for myself because this world doesn't deserve to be saved. This is a demon world.

I look at others whom clearly don't agree, whom create not mere survival related things. I try to put myself in their shoes but it's no good. Whatever they're experiencing must be experienced firsthand (if even that would work). It's not good to see it from afar. It's not a bunch of abstract ideas. It's their daily interactions that make it their art in turn worth doing. Mine don't.

I suppose I shouldn't use the word "demon" but what then? I'm not good enough with language to put it some other way. It comes down to good/bad and this is bad. This is demons. Because really it is that awful. And it's always been this way. There's never been a world worth saving that I've experienced. There's just me and my wife. And she's not interested in my art. So there's no reason to bother with all that I guess.

I'd like to imagine a world where it mattered. Maybe that in itself could be the creation. A world where it mattered to bother.

Sure would be "gay" though. Wincingly gay.

That is what "gay" ultimately is, the world beyond that which is clearly devoted to mere survival.

Two interesting things said by the guy who wrote the biography on Rod Serling (Joel Engel). Something about not having the confidence to put a lot of time into any one script. Despite all his success Serling would forever fly through things and just end up with tons of somewhat shoddy quantity. And Serling, for all his success, really was not confident at all.

Secondly, something about liking to destroy more than create. Not remembering it quite right but it struck me in that much like little boys like to break things, I personally certainly find it much easier to criticize the existing world, etc than to come up with alternatives.... It just seems to me, in view of say the typical woman, enjoying what good the world has to offer, I'm in comparison a little like a typical boy melting slugs.

Thirdly, an old army buddy sent a letter to Serling praising his Twilight Zone work, saying how much he loved it, etc and signed the letter: Love, ....
Serling misunderstood and thought the guy was coming on to him. Serling hated "fags" and replied that he was sick and needed to see a psychiatrist, lol.

Serling so focused on being macho. And so worried about being short. Absurdity.

...wife trying to get me to watch videos some guy does of his cats. I find myself thinking quite negatively of the guy. Making a bunch of videos of your cats is just a little too "gay" for me....

I feel annoyed because there's such potential for happiness that we shut ourselves off from. This fellow with his cats. Totally unworried about appearing ridiculous and/or "gay". What if we were all like him? Completely unworried about fitting the role we think society says we must fill?

At work I give a recorded report for the next nurse. I hear my voice and think I need to use a lower pitch to sound more stereotypically manly. I certainly can use a slightly lower pitch. The one male unit clerk will often record the patient's names and he uses the proper stereotypical manly voice with slightly affected lower pitch to his voice. I certainly can do the same. I can go much lower. Or higher. I experimented with doing so for awhile pretending I was practicing to be a radio announcer, lol.

But with a slight feeling of absurdity, because such a thing is an affectation, a filling of this... neanderthalic societal role. (Also in that a lower pitch has threatening connotations and I want to be completely unthreatening.) Like Serling was locked into. So I'm less locked into it. And I suspect others frown upon me for being less locked into it.

Yet still, I am also stuck into parts of it still. And probably always will be.

To the extent I've broken out of playing the absurd typical role, I look at others and laugh/feel depressed at what others are sadly locked into. And they in turn I'm sure look at me and probably feel distaste such as I feel for the guy making videos of his cats..??

Music composition theory: "righting" the "wrong"

The good composers take the most roundabout paths to do so. Same idea with stories. Needs a clear wrong which is eventually, finally, righted.

So you have clear resolution, yet you tap around it, avoid it, don't quite make it to it, take a detour in getting to it. Tease.

"I'm not your bitch." (says Neil Gaiman concerning George Martin in effect flipping off his readers.)
"I'm not at your beck and call."
"I don't owe you anything."
"I have a right to enjoy my life."

Some people show a lack of consideration for others and when called on it, they respond with such. Turning things into absurdly crude white and black in order justify pure selfishness.

Better than in an aquarium because you can't see them as well, they're not so exposed and bare and on display. This way a slight bit of mystery left as you gliimpse into this other world.

The more pond plants for them to hide beneath, the better. But got the plants late so they haven't grown like they can. Next year surface will be mostly covered by August.

The less seen, the better. The more clearly you can see, the more you realize what a sad life they actually have.

Except the snails, they move so slow I at least imagine they are forever dreaming on some level.

Not to overstate it but ending songs abruptly, no fade, because I want to "rip the music away". Make it a stark black/white, music/silence. And again not to overstate it but, this largely because no one ever really gave a shit to listen anyway, so just rip it away, abruptly, rudely, like a life snuffed out suddenly. It's rude and ugly I think. Appropriate.

Here was something beautiful. 'Snip'. Now it's gone. Nobody gives a shit, so so what?

Not to overstate it though. Not really a big deal. Just seems the way to end songs.

It occurs to me I have for a while now cured myself of The Search. It isn't out there. Only within. I haven't searched in a long time, thankfully, sadly.

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I like cats that act like dogs and vice versa. The same with most else.

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5000 pages, hundreds of characters, endlessly jumping from so many characters, finally returning to the previous often many hundreds of pages later, killing main characters after thousands of pages. Not a bad way to go about things... (George Martin).

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Watched the gay theatre episdoe of The IT Crowd. Laughed harder then I have in years. Laughed and also cried. In a crying mood. Earlier was crying as I thought about bringing dragons back into the world. A reoccuring idea in fantasy fiction. Occurs both with Hobb and Martin, and I'm sure many others. WIth Martin tied into ending slavery. Bringing back dragons is a highly symbolic idea. A powerful idea that makes me feel like crying. Surely not something understood by most. Then with The IT Crowd. Even though I like it I avoid watching it because I feel like I was meant to have lived in the UK and thinking of what has been forever lost is painful. So I try to avoid things which remind me. It's just some silly sitcom but it happens to be symbolic of the UK to me.

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Ate Indian food and left without paying. Scares me that I did so. Certainly never did such a thing before. Mostly just that horrifically sleep deprived thanks to 14 hour nightshifts. Also though engrossed in book. Plus, I don't know, the food was so damm good I forgot about the depressing concept of money. Etc. Thinking all kinds of things except paying for my meal.

Worse, I told people at work about this. Because I forever make the mistake of assuming goodness, intelligence on the part of others... Instead they'll judge me awfully. I should know. I do know. (How can someone that absentminded be taking care of critically ill people?) But in the moment it's a truth unbearable. To see it and stand being around them would be a bit of Lovecraft's correlation. Kunderesque.

Thanks to blueberry smoothies can do multiple set high rep weightlifting again without insomnia. Sleep is like a magical thing. Pond and yard mostly finished. Can see the pond liner a bit and the wall is a little crooked. Two very small things that would have been a huge pain in the ass to make perfect. Still not sure if I should have made them perfect. The whole pond and garden thing, I thought first of making sure not to be "gaudy". Now I'm thinking of royalty having their perfect gardens and me being a commoner with pretentions, with my crooked pond wall and liner showing. But well really it's beautiful. 5 gold fish and 2 koi, they come right up to you for food already. Floating water lettuce and hyacinths. Water lilies, parrot's feather and two other water plants of unknown names. The maiden and pampas grass. The wysteria vine growing a few inches every day. The japanese maple, weeping willow, crimson maple and japanese kwanzan. The norfolk pine. Watch it all grow. The miracle of life. The small stone sculpture (too much would be gaudy, redneck/commoner pretending they're the king, lol.) So just one small scuplture and a large stone bench.

Oh and a bit of pakisandra. Hopefully it will flourish and there'll be a lot less grass to deal with eventually.

Done except to figure out where to let the wysteria grow. Maybe plant some blueberry bushes somewhere later. Blueberries are the most important food a human can eat.

Bought a guitar, bought a pulldown machine. And that's it. No more purchases. Still have 16 thousand in the bank and nothing else really to buy. Wrote two songs yesterday. But only because my nephew wanted something to sing along with.

Enjoying escapist fiction. Snuggling cat. Drinking tea. Feel very well physically. Starting each day off with a "comfortable" jog on the thousand dollar treadmill. Wife finally agreed even to let me move it out of the garage and into the very spacious kitchen. And I moved it all by myself. A year ago I didn't feel up to doing it by myself. Moved stone bench by self also which weighed 200 pounds. Feel good. "Magical" sleep.

Got a snail and it had a baby. Aquarium filled with anacharis. Doesn't seem to grow in outside pond though.

Scorching heat. Like it outside. Love to feel really hot. For just a while though. Like the 200 fahrenheit saunas in Kazakstan. (Just don't breath too fast or you'll burn your noise.) But don't like it to be relentless 24 hours a day. And thankfully have air conditioned home.

Feeling like cello lessons come up too quick. Want to switch to once every three weeks instead of every two, but afraid to displease cello teacher, whom I really like quite a bit. A bit too cheery, but well still, really like her a lot.

Chris showed up today. I did mention the Lord of the Flies and not really wanting to hear about people from 25 years ago. Think it was all perfectly pleasant though, unlike what I typed here. Chris wants to get a guitar. I'm going to buy him one from rondomusic.com and send it to him. Just afraid he'll feel like he's got to get me something in return. Need to communicate that all I want in return is for him to learn how to play and play with me some time.

Cuckoo clock just ..'hooted' 1AM. Hoping to stay up till at least 2 so to prepare for night shift tomorrow. Chocolate works much better than tea. Had really come close to falling asleep at 11pm, which would be a bad bad thing.

Patient from the UK. First ever in a few years from the UK. He said he drinks 40 cups of coffee a day. He looked like hell. Said he sleeps two hours a night. Insomnia all his life. I told him of the blessed blueberry smoothies. Hope he tries them, poor poor fellow.

I was watching the Twilight Zone and reading about Rod Serling. Some of the episodes are very cheesy but all in all, I think the social commentary of some episodes may be the best that ever survived TV corporate censorship. Really can't think of any other TV show ever made that had such messages as like 'monsters due on maple street'. Purchased a biography. Serling said the worst thing was to become a misanthrope. I think that must have been something he really fought against becoming.