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Mindbender and Me

MINDBENDER II (THE WRATH OF KHAN)1

“Here, take this. It’s a mixture of horse placenta, baby spit, and the toenail of a sodomized goat, manufactured in the basement of a New Jersey pharmaceutical company/suburban home.”

ME

“Will it slow my metabolism down even further and cause me to gain even more weight like all the other shit has?”

MINDBENDER II (THE WRATH OF KHAN)

“No, no, it was weight neutral in trials; it will just help with your want to leave the house. And who knows, it might even get you back on your bike or in the woods with your camera. Trade: Phenodihydrochloride benzelex. Street: The embalmer”

ME

“Balls. I’ll swallow it and run a mile.”

Me grabs handful of colorful pills and shoves them down his throat.

MINDBENDER II (THE WRATH OF KHAN)

“Not those pills, THESE pills, those are my M&Ms, you stupid nipple. By the way, you still owe your $30 copay from our last session.”

Me proceeds to write a check with milk chocolate—now freed from its hard, colorful candy shell— smeared across his chubby face.

ME

“What’s today’s date again?”2

— SCENE —

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Feeling Nifty

Somehow it’s Wednesday, and I’m trying to figure out what the hell I’ve done since my last unneeded post. Oh yeah, nothing. Well, at least nothing all that physical, that’s for sure.

To be honest, I have been struggling to find the want to leave the house for anything other than food and beer over the last couple of months, but in recent days the combination of warmer temps (hello 45˚, yo!!), sun, and an appointment with Mindbender II (The Wrath of Kahn) to change some shit up has helped to point me in the direction of unfucking myself and mild—but acceptable—increased motivation and energy levels.

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The Aftermath

Wow, that sort of felt good! The holidays aren’t such a pain in the ass when they are done from the comfort of your own home and without having to drive 14 hour hours round trip to be depressed and anxiety-ridden. It sort of sucks that it took a Global Pandemic and recommended travel and gathering restrictions (that many Americans seem to have flat-out ignored because they are morons) to make that happen, but I’m not complaining.

As you may or may not have noticed (I’m assuming the latter), I took a well-undeserved break from writing this shit show for a bit. I think all the writing about my late mother, dealing with depression, and other non-published projects took its toll on my Available For Use brain cells, and I found myself like the rest of the world for a week or so; not giving a shit about this blog. Not to mention I was busy making holiday dreams happen (not at all).

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Petroleum-Based Thanks

On Monday—I think—I went to Meijer (AKA the midwest’s nicer, cleaner version of Wal-Mart1, and swore I wouldn’t go back until after Thanksgiving, and all post-feast, capitalist, COVID super spreader shopping events are over. I then found myself returning the next two days in a row. What can I say, beers are made for drinking.

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Routes Taken

There is a special time in man’s life when he reaches a crossroad; one direction means that his life will stay exactly the same. While the other direction will have his life staying exactly the same, except he wasted time writing a blog post that no one—not even himself—will should read. For most of the past week, I have taken the first route. Today, I take the path of increased time waste. Apparently I have some time, and it needs wasting.

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Places and Times

I know the real reason you are here, don’t lie! You’re here to find out how Jake (the dog) is after his Monday visit to the vet.

Well, Jake is still Jake-ing on, although-be-it with the need for me to shove a variety of pills down his uncooperative throat twice a day to help him with some hip/back issues and an ear infection that I had no idea he had.

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Water on The Brain

I’m trying to get back to normal posting, outdoor activities, and photography after two months of watching and shooting B play his junior season of (dystopian) high school soccer. I think the unintelligible, manic-like word vomit disguised as photo tips in my last post may have been my way of dealing with that, and the realization that there’s not much to look forward to over the next six to seven months that doesn’t have the word “tentative” attached to it.

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