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Jimbo Jaggins
Jul 19, 2013


like, whenever he's not out making a fool of himself he'll write pages and pages of rants you should see some of this poo poo i respect his endurance he even does it on skype as if we're having a conversation it is getting tiresome but it amuses the hell out of me what should i do if I tell him to stop he gets mad

ive not posted it in en because that forum is bad and we should all be able to laugh at this

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Arivia
Mar 17, 2011

This ancient path
is cracked and split
with the bones of those
who couldn't deal with it


k

Laughs at OP

spacetimecontinuu
Dec 31, 2004


nvm I'm gay

Benny D
Oct 9, 2012


Jimbo Jaggins posted:

like, whenever he's not out making a fool of himself he'll write pages and pages of rants you should see some of this poo poo i respect his endurance he even does it on skype as if we're having a conversation it is getting tiresome but it amuses the hell out of me what should i do if I tell him to stop he gets mad

ive not posted it in en because that forum is bad and we should all be able to laugh at this

post everything he wrote I'll be waiting over here ok

Erethizon_dorsatum
Nov 14, 2009


what are the rants about?

Knitted Art
Mar 25, 2011



Erethizon_dorsatum posted:

what are the rants about?


Benny D posted:

post everything he wrote I'll be waiting over here ok

The Human Crouton
Sep 20, 2002

THRESHOLD!!!



Your friend is a supervillain. He'll probably be very loyal if you don't do stupid poo poo like post about him on forums.

Mankanshoku Mako
Dec 24, 2009

by toby


Jimbo Jaggins posted:

like, whenever he's not out making a fool of himself he'll write pages and pages of rants you should see some of this poo poo i respect his endurance he even does it on skype as if we're having a conversation it is getting tiresome but it amuses the hell out of me what should i do if I tell him to stop he gets mad

ive not posted it in en because that forum is bad and we should all be able to laugh at this

post them

the black husserl
Feb 25, 2005



Hes either having a manic episode or hes gone schizo,,, say goodbye to the friend you loved...

Sid Delicious
Oct 31, 2007

this thread...it was made for me

well if you would start listening to me you would understand i am no actually insane you are just being a jerk

Jimbo Jaggins
Jul 19, 2013


You wanna really wind some cops up; wind them up like little marching soldiers? Tell them that their cocks are tiny and no woman could ever love them. You wanna wind up a whole country? Tell them that their cocks are huge and you’ll help keep their children safe. You wanna know what makes me "different" from a "normal" "schizophrenic"? There's some music that encapsulates it: Flowbots - Handlebars.

i lost my poo poo

Quixotic
Sep 2, 2004


Jimbo Jaggins posted:

like, whenever he's not out making a fool of himself he'll write pages and pages of rants you should see some of this poo poo i respect his endurance he even does it on skype as if we're having a conversation it is getting tiresome but it amuses the hell out of me what should i do if I tell him to stop he gets mad

ive not posted it in en because that forum is bad and we should all be able to laugh at this
So your friend is insane, but what's your excuse?

the black husserl
Feb 25, 2005



I ha d a friend who was very into computer science and charles fourier and this happened to him, he became homeless in paris and got stabbed

down with slavery
Dec 23, 2013
STOP QUOTING MY POSTS SO PEOPLE THAT AREN'T IDIOTS DON'T HAVE TO READ MY FUCKING TERRIBLE OPINIONS THANKS

op has multiple personality disorder and the friend is one of his personalities calling it now

Tane
Feb 27, 2005



the black husserl posted:

I ha d a friend

calling bullshit

Erethizon_dorsatum
Nov 14, 2009


the black husserl posted:

I ha d a friend who was very into computer science and charles fourier and this happened to him, he became homeless in paris and got stabbed

did he die

the black husserl
Feb 25, 2005



the flowbots?? this guy is wack lol...

the black husserl
Feb 25, 2005




Hes dead in paris....OSCAR WILDE

Corek
May 11, 2013

SMG Macklemore Fanclub

Jimbo Jaggins posted:

You wanna really wind some cops up; wind them up like little marching soldiers? Tell them that their cocks are tiny and no woman could ever love them. You wanna wind up a whole country? Tell them that their cocks are huge and you’ll help keep their children safe. You wanna know what makes me "different" from a "normal" "schizophrenic"? There's some music that encapsulates it: Flowbots - Handlebars.

he's right

porkchop_express
May 27, 2004


obey his rantings you loving pussy

Malinois
Jun 13, 2003



Jimbo Jaggins posted:

There's some music that encapsulates it: Flowbots - Handlebars.

ahahahaha, more please

Jimbo Jaggins
Jul 19, 2013


here's some of his hot MRA tips:

[25/01/2014 11:40:15] TheNutter: Oh, doctor, am I the last man left with his own sense of humour? Does nobody appreciate performance art anymore? I got kicked out of four loving bars tonight just for picking on weak men and telling the bouncer that I want to cut his throat. I do want to cut his throat. I want to cut every man’s throat. I don’t care what happens to me, and I think it’s all very funny. And I got kicked out of four loving bars tonight. And I didn’t get laid.
[25/01/2014 11:47:32] TheNutter: Here's a funny joke. How many pretty girls does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
[25/01/2014 11:47:47] TheNutter: Try asking a pretty girl. She doesn't know.
[25/01/2014 11:49:59 | Edited 12:02:24] TheNutter: I hate women so much, James. All I want is to love them and they make it so loving difficult.
[25/01/2014 11:51:36] TheNutter: What's funny about that joke, right, is thw word screw. You want to emphasize that word. And look her hard in the eyes so that she knows the lightbulb is you.

cuckold cleanup
Sep 27, 2013



yeah, I got one of these, he hosed up his brain even harder and harasses mediums fulltime now

Jimbo Jaggins
Jul 19, 2013


Malinois posted:

ahahahaha, more please

More HANDLEBARS

[25/01/2014 12:56:51] TheNutter: Women. What's up with them?
[25/01/2014 12:57:41] TheNutter: Ever notice how it's always a man kicks out out the bar?
[25/01/2014 12:58:34] TheNutter: A woman would be too agreeable, I think. She'd ask me to leave and I'd ask her if I could stay and we'd talk about it and she'd say yes and I'd be a good boy like I promised.
[25/01/2014 12:58:56] TheNutter: Instead I tell a fucker I want to cut his throat and he physically extracts me.
[25/01/2014 12:59:32] TheNutter: Four bars I got kicked out of.
[25/01/2014 12:59:49] TheNutter: "Just be yourself"
[25/01/2014 13:00:16] TheNutter: Try telling a bouncer that.
[25/01/2014 13:00:35] TheNutter: loving fat guys. I hate them. Need all the lard carved off them.
[25/01/2014 13:01:25] TheNutter: And they don't think that's funny. They're the butt of the joke and the don't even get it.
[25/01/2014 13:01:38] TheNutter: "Nothing weird about that, right ladies?"
[25/01/2014 13:04:55] TheNutter: "I'm just being myself! I think suicide is funny and I want to kill you. Please, mister, don't kick me out the bar!"
[25/01/2014 13:42:59] TheNutter: Best album name ever "Fight With Tools". Best song on that album. Handlebars.

I've got a really long email off him and I don't even know if it's funny, because lol I'm not reading all that. Shall I post it?

Feranon
Sep 10, 2011

People were less prepared for a double juggalo presidency than they ever imagined.


this can't be real right

Tarranon
Oct 10, 2007


that seems tough to deal with, james

porkchop_express
May 27, 2004


post it

redshirt
Aug 11, 2007

Hailing frequencies

Buy him a gently loving account.

Jimbo Jaggins
Jul 19, 2013


redshirt posted:

Buy him a gently loving account.

He has one.

ayekappy
Aug 22, 2004

Brie Cheesin'

He needs 500 mg L-Tyrosine and 300mg L-Theanine daily, and possibly 40mg Phenibut 2x daily.

Jimbo Jaggins
Jul 19, 2013


Where am I? What am I doing here? What's going on?

These aren't meant to be easy questions and they're not. Some people pretend that they know the answers or that the answers don’t matter because they need to trust themselves. They “lie” to themselves on purpose. Schizophrenics tell themselves “the truth” by accident. They just can’t help it. They secretly “know” that they “are” poo poo and that they “should” kill themselves. They're not brave enough to call these “truths” their own so they let the voices in their head speak on their behalf. They are trying desperately hard to be sane and they’re almost able to do it but then they see God when they watch TV and his cock is just way so much bigger than theirs. Lady schizophrenics can’t believe that they’re almost good mothers (who would never do anything “dirty” in bed). What if schizophrenics could only talk to other people rather than reading newspapers and watching TV?

I find it difficult to lie or tell any certain truth. That’s why I failed medical ethics.

You wanna really wind some cops up; wind them up like little marching soldiers? Tell them that their cocks are tiny and no woman could ever love them. You wanna wind up a whole country? Tell them that their cocks are huge and you’ll help keep their children safe. You wanna know what makes me "different" from a "normal" "schizophrenic"? There's a music that encapsulates it: Flowbots - Handlebars. I consider myself a free man. Schizophrenics are slaves to “truth” and “the truth” just doesn’t make sense. When you look another person in the eyes, if you can see if they’re lying and you can guess why they’d lie then you also know “their truth.” Why can’t schizophrenics express themselves? Why do they dodge glances and scribble gibberish?

Anyways, where am I? What am I doing here? What’s going on?

I don’t even “know”. I can’t. I can go to church and “make” people wonder if I’m God just by showing up drunk and saying what I want to say and doing what I want to do. It makes me insane (no quotation marks). The doctrine that allows me to do it: “What if you and I are both incomplete but perfect images of a perfect god? Then isn’t everything we feel, think and do right? Is either of us more right than the other?” Ask that to a depressed man who’s also an alcoholic and with OCD in such a way that he believes it and you cure him of his “alcoholism”, his “depression” and his “OCD”.. It also goes a long way if you can laugh with him at his silly little problems like puking all over the place and spending Christmas alone and losing his job. That’s when that God business really started going to my head. I think it was maybe four days before my church visit. And I got arrested on Monday night, the day after church. Should have heard me shouting at the cops: “I want to rip your loving head off! I want to tear your heart out! I want to crawl inside your stinking corpse and poo poo out your rear end! I loving hate you! I really loving hate you! Don’t you get it?!” Put the fear of God into them, I did. Four car arrest, I think, maybe ten cops involved, and no physical violence on my part. Just cops being cops and me being an rear end in a top hat.

And that’s only a $65 fine only because I had no interest in hurting anyone. I was clearly not in my right mind the day before I came into student health services. I didn’t care where I was going or whether I got hit by a car on the way. I’d have been “fine” being taken anywhere but jail. I’m going to contest that “fine”.

Language is metaphorical and people take it literally. The map is not the territory, and all that. Synonyms, words repeat themselves, people repeat what they hear on TV, way so complicated when you’re experiencing manic psychosis. Why do people in psych wards and jails tap on the walls of their lonely, solitary cells? How did human language evolve?

“Hurr-duh-durr that sounds a little like Haekel’s discredited idea about tadpoles and I read it my textbook that…” You’d not believe how many well-educated dumbasses I meet. Why doesn’t ontogeny recapitulate phylogeny? Is that not a meaningful metaphor sometimes? If you could see my face you’d see that I’m honestly joking and I’m honestly annoyed and I’m honestly asking. Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one who tries to be honest. Sometimes it doesn’t. That’s one thing that I like about both of you, doctors.

Anyways, yeah, next day after jail I realize that I’ve maybe had a man go off his medication four or five days ago and he might do… anything. Anything at all. And I’m responsible for that? poo poo poo poo poo poo poo poo poo poo!

Let’s go ask that nice lady doctor what to do about this. Good thinking, right? Except that I can’t see her without an appointment unless it’s an emergency. Manic episodes are an emergency, right? Yeah, that’ll do it. Good thinking, right?

Nope, that thinking got me locked up for four days out of contact with this fellow that I was worried about and the cops wouldn’t go check on him and the doctors go check on him and the nurses wouldn’t go check on him and nobody would check on him but me, and I was locked up in the madhouse. Who is mad?

Luckily I was unlocked despite there being no possible way for a doctor to know what I’d do when he let me go (other than looking me in the eye to see if I was lying. Thanks, doc!). So I went to see this fellow when I got out of Homewood and… get this… he’s thinking of checking himself into Homewood. I supported the idea and that meant something to him. People are funny, aren’t they? You just never know what they’re going to do. That’s kind of the point of them.

I can’t go through all the spiritual implications of freedom, power, responsibility and trust/faith. But there are a lot of them, and they are all quite pointed when you’re locked up manic and alone on a psych ward wondering if God wants you to kill yourself to save the world. I asked the nurse for a bedtime story and she said that she couldn’t tell me one but she could give me a teddy bear. I laughed uncontrollably. She was speaking the word of God just because she was speaking honestly and she honestly thought I was being silly. So I laughed. And I felt better.

Ever seen that x-ray of the man with a masonry nail buried all the way into the front of his head? He hammered it in by himself because he was psychotic and he thought he should do that. I could have done that. I felt like I should have, just I didn’t want to, and I wasn’t sure. Good thing the nurse thought I was being silly, even if she “couldn’t” tell me a bedtime story. What if I’d caught her on a bad day? Oh, but there’s thing, I’d have looked her in the eye and known whether she was speaking honestly and directly to me. Like we’re reading each other’s minds. Psychosis is cool poo poo.

There is a gift and a trick in everything. Apples and axes. What to do with the tree of knowledge? Did Nietzsche, bless his heart, really manage to move Beyond Good and Evil? I know that I haven’t, but I feel like I’ve gotten a little bit closer than he did. Neitzsche liked mountain tops. My friend values his mental fortitude and indeed his mind is like a fort, though his IQ is higher than mine. I like wide open plains. I like the forest. I like the ocean. I like the swamp. I like the mountain. I storm the fort. At least, that’s what I say when I’m trying to sound like a real philosophical king poo poo know-it-all. Other times I need a nurse to tell me a bedtime story so that I know I won’t die in my sleep. And she “can’t” and I don’t sleep because I can’t. Also, weirdest thing, when I was thinking alone in cell my body felt normal or maybe a little tense. When I tried to stop thinking it felt tingly all over and I got an erection and I knew if it went much further I’d have to have those poor nurses do something with my cum stained hospital clothes. Scary. No sleep for me, though. Legs started shaking when I stopped thinking. And all I could think about was whether I’m supposed to kill myself, whether I should disobey even if it’s an order, whether I care one way or the other about it, what will happen if I do, or don’t, whether whether what what. Would I have gone to heaven or hell if I slept? If I killed myself?

I consider myself agnostic and I don’t really think it’s all that important a question. But these things are fun to think about, aren’t they?

Remember those experiments where they raised a monkey without parental care then stuck in a dark box or whatever, and it peeled its face off and chewed its arms off or whatever? It felt like that monkey was me, or God, or just a monkey. The big bang is what was going on in that monkey’s head to cure his loneliness as he peels his face off. What goes through a man’s head when he hammers a nail into it? Other than the nail, I mean. There’s another vision of God. A pretty girl with seven billion pricks stuffed up her fat stinkyhole (profane on purpose) in perfect ecstasy until… a moment of clarity… she realizes that she’s perfectly alone and she’s actually just masturbating with dildos made of flesh. She births the whole of humanity because she’s lonely.

Anyways, yeah, I’m rambling.

Where am I? I don’t really care. It’s not important.

What am I doing here? Well, I a few days ago I was seeing into eternity, talking to “God” and thinking that I can do whatever I want with it with “His” approval… but not knowing what I was supposed to do. Now I’m writing to my doctors about it. Might even be that I’m adding an eighth day to the week (that was a joke [that was a joke {that was a joke}]). What does the echo of laugher sound like? Like two people laughing? How lonely it would be to be God, eh? I sure glad I’m not him/her.

What’s going on? Good people are doing awful things to each other because they don’t know who they really are, and they’re forced to operate within systems that make them do bad things, and don’t they even see it. I want to change that.

The problem, “I think” (should we end the sentence here?), is that humans have bimodal reproductive strategies and patterns for sexual development and we’re still operating on the scarcity paradigm that would have been beneficial during the last ice age (there have been many glacial and interglacial periods during the course of human evolution). We began farming during the warm, interglacial Holocene and destroyed the environment in the Fertile Crescent meaning that the scarcity mode was still required even during an interglacial period. Probably that’s the first time that scarcity reproductive strategies were required by a lot of people on a large scale during what was a time of plenty elsewhere in the world. Religion in that region managed to hold together ever-growing, scarcity-motivated societies by making a bigger and better daddy figure. Now we’re using that daddy figure in a post-scarcity part of the world because the sexual frustration that the scarcity-motivated reproductive strategy is actually a really loving strong motivation for men to figure out ways to acquire resources. So good, in fact, that we’re now entering a time of plenty in which the daddy-figure is not required to avoid population level catastrophe. Daddy in a time of scarcity when there were few people alive would, of course, be your daddy and he would have protected you. Bigger groups with scarce resources need bigger and better daddies. Peoples living in areas with plentiful resources operate differently, but our daddy can beat up their daddy because we measure time and use money. The only good thing about either is that we can attach numbers to them, count them, and so account for scarce resources.

Now it’s all boiling over. It’s gone to pot. It’s done and I feel like I’m the only one who sees why. But everyone sees it; just they can’t believe what they’re seeing. It’s too horrid. They don’t even want to think about it.

How do you feel when you see that picture of the starving kid during the Sudanese famine chasing on hands and knees after the man who stole his corn? Me, I want to boot his brains out because he disgusts me. And I want to boot the other guy’s brains out because he disgusts me. And, hey, free corn!

But that’s not what I’d do, of course. I just have to admit that that’s how I feel. Probably a lot of men feel that way only they’re too ashamed to admit it. Me, I lost the last of my shame during a months-long speed binge. Oddly enough, that makes me more confident. Or maybe I’m brain damaged. Whatever. Don’t care. It’s a lot easier to be honest with a bit of humility, though. And I have humility in spades. I’m just about the humblest guy I know. Way so humble. That’s what makes me such a cool guy, so easy to talk to. Chicks dig my humility, not gonna lie. Men too. Sometimes it feels like I’m God or something, that’s how humiliated and shameless and confident and honest I am. Go me!

Oh, you would not believe how frustrating this is. I’m at the grocery store, right, and it’s a pretty girl at the checkout and I’m not the least bit nervous and neither is she. I look her kindly in the eyes because I like pretty girls and she can see that I think she’s pretty so I like her and that I don’t want to surprise sex her because I like her. Boom! She has an epiphany, like she’s in love or something, doesn’t know how to feel about it. She literally starts shaking, fumbling, saying silly things. She was probably sexually aroused, as was I. The difference between me and her: I was comfortable with this and thought it perfectly normal and healthy and she did not feel that way. Neither of us was able to acknowledge how we felt. That’s not healthy, but it is normal.

And it’s like this all the time. Way more often than it should be.

And Christians wonder why some people are “gay”? I get annoyed when “straight” men want to have sex with me but I don’t wonder why.

And feminism? The fundamental assumption seems to me to be that women are powerless and men are evil. I don’t really know much about it, but I feel like feminists build on that assumption while trying to explain it away. “Careful with that axiom, Eugene,” is the subtitle to the book Pink Floyd and Philosophy. I bought that book six years ago and still haven’t read it. But it seems to me that everything men do, including music, is done for sex. That’s why they control so many things: because they so desperately want to get laid. We’re still using the ice age mode of human sexual development 10,000 years into the Holocene. I haven’t read Roy Baumeister’s book but he’s probably pretty close and probably a little bit off.

What is the ice age mode of human sexual development? I’ve not read any of his books but Freud was probably pretty close and probably a little bit off.

“What if you and I are both incomplete but perfect images of a perfect god? Then isn’t everything we feel, think and do right? Is either of us more right than the other?”

Should I let “pick up artists” in on the secret? Should I feel responsible for what they might do with it?

Anyways, schizophrenia, Jayne did some work on bicameral minds and he’s probably pretty close and probably a little off. I don’t know because I haven’t read his work. He needs to consider Milankovich cycles and bimodal human reproductive strategies and the expressiveness of human faces. Whatever, not my work.

What is my work? Taking so much speed that I can sometimes see through literal and figurative walls. That and nearly flunking out of school (thanks, doc!).

I’ve been writing this as fast as I can type and I’m missing half the thoughts that run through my head (I’ve since edited). Look a pretty girl in the eyes with a genuine smile, though, and she understands everything that she needs to know. Look a man in the eyes and you’ll know if he’s lying.

What’s the most important trend in human evolution? Higher investment in fewer, better offspring. Better mothers and better fathers. What are the implications? They are beyond counting. I would wager that female genitalia have been getting smaller and more sensitive as first sexual encounters get more painful in spite of women showing cross-cultural preference for larger flaccid penises. What would this mean in the context of a loving monogamous relationship? How do bonobos use sex and what are their genitals like? Why don’t feminists like evo-psych? Why are there so many male feminists?

Way too much to say. Way too much. I feel like I’m ready to turn a 31,000 year old paradigm on its head and bring world peace. Whatever. Not my work? Well, my marks probably won’t get me into a master’s program. I don’t really care what I take a master’s in. But is it not about time that I can tell a pretty grocery clerk that I like her because she’s pretty and she can tell me that she wants to have sex with me? I mean, we know how sex works. We have condoms and IUDs and this and that and the other thing. We pretty much have everything we need to be happy except… what… we just don’t want to be?

Where am I? What am I doing here? What’s going on?

How very simple these questions should be.

Am I a prophet? Does it even matter who I am if it doesn’t get me laid? Why were Jesus and Nietzsche so weird about women? Who would they have been if they weren’t?

Why do I drink? How did I end up psychotic? Why am I not psychotic now? What does it mean to experience psychosis? I can’t tell you because we don’t have words for it.

Why do people wear clothes? It’s right at the beginning of Genesis. Who wrote Genesis? It wasn’t me, I can tell you that much. Now.

What’s wrong with telling little boys not to fight at school or hit girls they like? Well, if you do then they don’t learn while they’re still harmless little boys that fighting hurts and girls they like don’t like being hit. Do we prefer surprise sex and murder to children with bloody noses and hurt feelings? Or have we just not given that question enough impartial thought?

What’s it like to be an unwed teenage mother? Embarrassing, apparently, if you can believe that. What’s wrong with being an unwed teenage mother?

What’s it like to be a stripper? Embarrassing, apparently, if you can believe that. What’s wrong with being a stripper?

What’s it like to be a homeless crack dealer and a murder convict as a black man in Detroit? Well, apparently it’s lonely; dude talked my ear off and walked me an hour out of his way rather than giving me directions.

This is simple stuff. So simple. The whole world is completely hosed despite being full of good people and I wouldn’t even mind watching it burn, just, that’s not what I want to do.

How do all these questions not drive you insane?

I became a student to take a holiday from those dreadful factories. You have no idea how I dread going back into those dreadful factories when I graduate. You have no idea how miserable they “made” my mother or how miserable she “made” me. You have no idea how I dread graduating with a degree in “biology” from one of the “best” “life sciences” “schools” in one of the “best” “countries” in the “world”.

I want to be a student forever.

Hopefully I don’t go mad trying.

Five pages is getting a little long. Better stop before I’ve accidentally written a book.

poo poo, I went back and edited. Better not make it eight pages. Nobody wants to read seven pages.

Sarcasm is a tool for cowardly tools, don’t you think?

Heh, alright, so I wrote all that a couple days ago. Forget about it. But I’ve still got this, uh, this document open. Might as well add on to the end. I’ve not been taking those pills. I don’t like them. I told my doctor at the school that I was taking them because she believes that I’m mentally ill and potentially dangerous and she wonders how a big strong man like me feels about women and what she can do about it and she’s only sure of what she reads in books and… Oh, it’s not easy getting help with “mental health”.

But you’re a cool guy. And she wants me to fo…

Wait, here’s an important thing. I believe that god talks to me everywhere. I believe that I can laugh with him. I wonder if I’m “the messiah” and what I’m supposed to do about it, and I know that whatever I do I must not tell people that I wonder this. But other people wonder it, and god talks to me in human words from human mouths. Man’s in the image of god, yes? So is not man’s mouth the same as god’s?

So anyways, I was walking to meet the nice lady doctor who worries about me and worries about a lot of other things, I’m sure, and I was going to tell her that I don’t believe in mental illness and I’m not taking my crazy pills and I’m a bit peeved that she had me locked up for four days, made me miss classes, yadda yadda yadda. And I am a bit peeved but I like her as a person even if I don’t respect her as a doctor. And I don’t. She doesn’t even respect herself as a doctor. She wonders whether I think she’s smart enough. She has to go ask another doctor before she writes me a bupropion script and then she hopes against hope that that’s not why I’m turning up manic after a week of heavy drinking and pretending to be God. So anyways, I mean I like her as a lady, she’s a nice lady, but she’s not a psychiatrist and she wants me to follow up with you.

You I like as a doctor. I barely know you as a man, but I sort of do, maybe. Anyways…

What was I writing?

Oh, poo poo, right, silly religious stuff. So they’re doing some Christian recruitment thing at the school, right, two girls standing alone in front of this board of notes on who everyone thinks Jesus is. They want to engage the campus community and they expect people to encapsulate jesus on a little piece of coloured paper. Nobody can do that, and they know it. So they want people to talk and they don’t think that people have anything worth saying. Silly, right? I point it out the hypocrisy politely, she doesn’t understand, whatever. Talk about other things. How big is God and how small is the bible? That sort of stuff. Does she believe in evolution? She started out looking me in the eye, toward the end she’s not so much able to, people always have to look away from each other when they think, have you noticed that? Of course you have. I bet there’s a whole textbook on it, or there should be, anyhow. Anyways, um, what was I thinking, oh, right, shooting the poo poo, she’s getting a little weird, “Okay, so maybe the big bang happened but that doesn’t mean that’s all there is” and it’s like she’s asking me. “I believe that to. You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to put up a blank piece of paper and just let people wonder what I’m thinking.”

And she’s in awe. Awww… she’s sweet. When I say awe, I mean that “flat affect” that doctor Davidson so observantly noted when I thought she was God during my “manic episode.” Anyways, pretty Christian girl, she wants me to go this, like, thing that they’re doing to help me know Jesus or something. Whatever. I want to go see her because she’s a pretty girl and I like her.

….

Wait, no, the lady doctor and what to tell her. Yeah. So I was walking to go see her and this guy’s walking this tiny little dog, the least scary dog you’ve ever seen. And the guy walking that dog held it back, like it was going to bite me, like I was the least bit scared of it even if it did want to bite me. And I said something like “It’s fine, mate, no worries”, telling him to just let the dog run, whatever. And he said something like “I’m just trying to keep him from doing something stupid”. And I walked past and this stupid little dog actually did bark and try to bite at me but the guy was holding it. Funny, but what does it mean?

Okay, so I’m the dog in this metaphor, and the me who’s walking is… and the guy who’s holding back the dog is god or something… it doesn’t even matter how the metaphor works. I don’t remember. But I’m the dog. What it meant was that my teeth aren’t so sharp as I think they are and all I’m going to do is get myself in trouble if I tell that nice lady doctor what I’m actually thinking.

So you see? Divine inspiration! And I get it loving EVERYWHERE! Every time I leave the house or look or my shoes or… do anything. It’s cool, though, because bible God’s no better than me, just a useful fiction (but don’t tell the pretty Christian girl that), but it’s the thought pattern. The way of thinking. I can’t escape it. Nobody can. Big cock sky daddy gonna keep all the little boys in line and tell the women to be chaste because the world’s a big, dangerous place and they need a big, dangerous man to love them with his big dangerous cock. See how that works? That’s the ice age mode of sexual development and WE’VE BUILT AN INTERGLACIAL SOCIETY ON TOP OF IT!

It can literally drive a man mad.

Oh, I can’t begin to say. Language controls our thoughts and filters our feelings. But it’s easy to understand things just intuitively. And intuition’s pretty powerful if you’re able to really get into it. Teenage grocery girls, they’re sexually aroused because I like them because they’re pretty and I don’t want to surprise sex them because I like them. Simple, right? And they see that when I look at them, and I’m not even meaning to make them uncomfortable, much less make them tremble or look uncomfortably at the counter or whatever sexually frustrated thing they do to avoid looking me in the eyes because they’re scared of their own sexuality. And she can’t even say that she likes me.

People are so weird.

Anyways, I think I’m going to let the pretty Christian girl hang onto a copy of Spinoza in French or Latin or something. I don’t know, I can’t read it. I hope she can’t either, but she’ll know enough Latin roots to kind of make sense of it. No, I’m not going to do this, actually; it’s belittling. But I would have told her how it’s like reading the bible. You almost know what it’s saying but you have to trust yourself to understand it. And you have to trust Spinoza to have thought carefully. And you have to trust that he’s not leading you astray. And you have to trust that you won’t be led astray. And she has to trust that I’m not leading her astray. And I have to trust that she’ll give the book back to me because if she doesn’t the library’s going to make me pay $50 or something stupid like that and “then it’s hell to pay *wink*”. And trust is only one kind of faith.

But, no, that’s me not reading what she puts on the silly little scrap of paper. And then I’m a hypocrite. So let’s not do that.

There are tests and tricks everywhere. Everywhere. All day, every day. I feel like I’m pretty good at negotiating them but it’s not always as easy as it should be. I want to change that. I don’t want pretty teenage girls to tremble when I look them in the eye. I want them to be comfortable.

Why do I smoke? I do it for social reasons. Am I dying for the sins of man?

Why do I keep snakes? Why did god put that tree in the garden and why couldn’t eve stop thinking about it, hmm? And who wrote that story? What does “God” want? Why should I care what big swinging cock jealous skydaddy wants? I see the apocalypse coming if we’re not careful. Not the end of the world, but the matrix. We are losing our humanity. I had to sign a consent form to have the nice lady doctor get some forms on me from the nice man doctor neither of whom thinks I’m dangerous. I did not have to sign a consent form to spend three nights under lock and key for being crazy.

I’m not going to give that nice lady doctor the 47 page letter that I wrote to her as I was writing myself into psychosis. You want? Will you lock me up if I give it to you?

Right, I just stepped out for a smoke, talked to my roommate, a 200 pound blond and blue-eyed Pole who’s scared of coyotes and doesn’t know how he feels about Nazism and wonders if we’re living in the Matrix.

But that’s not the point? Do I even have a point?

No, it was more of a question. Alright, so find a pretty girl, ask her “You ever notice people always look away from each other when they’re trying to think? Why do you think that is?” What’s she going to do, she’s going to look away to think about it. “Oh! See!? Nope, you can’t do it, can you? You can’t look me in the eye and think at the same time! Or, can you?” She might then try to do it. That’s going to get weird, eh? Should it be?

Have humans ever been telepathic? Will we be? How did language evolve and what does it do?

What do we really know about human sexuality? The expressiveness of human faces? What it is to be human? I can guarantee you that it’s not all in the textbooks yet.

What kinds of men write textbooks and why do so few women do it? Why are women now dominating university admissions?

How simple are these questions?

Why does the nice lady doctor want me to keep talking to you when we’re able to just look each other in the eye and know that there’s nothing to be afraid of? Hmm….?

Is “God” making her make me make you make yourself make me… better?

I really do believe that I have been to heaven. I really do believe that I can laugh with god. I really do believe that I’m “the Messaih” or “the ubermensch” or whatever silly name you want to use. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to hurt anyone and I don’t want to kill myself. I really do believe in fate. And I really don’t know when I’m going to jack off next or what to do with this pretty Christian girl.

You see how silly everything is?

You see?

And how will you diagnose me? Bipolar? Schizophrenic? Schizoaffective? Healthy? And what will I tell the nice lady doctor?

Such big, easy questions that nobody is willing to ask or answer, and it drives me up the wall and there’s only so much I can do about it.

Why are there so many sexual puns and why do women like a man with a sense of humour. What happens if you look the girl at the coffee shop kindly in the eye and ask for a “big, black coffee”, gesturing the vertical height of the coffee horizontally at waste level. Will she hear “big, black cock” and blush? Have you ever tried avoiding sexual innuendo altogether while still making comfortable eye contact? Is it possible to have a whole conversation that way? “Come” on, think about “it”. God, I wish people would just let themselves think about it.

How does language control our thoughts, and what do we use it for?

You know, I can write scientifically. I prefer a conversational style. So did Nietzsche. Why do so few people get his jokes? Did Hitler get them?

Why everything?

But anyways, yeah, lady doctor doesn’t trust herself and she wants me to talk to you, man doctor.

So here’s a funny story that’s really not all that funny. My $20 bill is ripped and I’m at the grocery checkout and I ask the cashier, “have you got some tape?”. It’s a test and a trick for her. She doesn’t have tape. Will she accept the note and tape it on her break? Nope. She asks if that’s how I’m paying. Yep. poo poo, now we’ve got a problem, see, ‘cause I smiled at her and she thinks that I think the note needs to be taped. It doesn’t. It’s only about 20% ripped off meaning that the remaining 80% is legal tender even without the other piece. But nevermind that. Pretend it’s not money unless it’s taped. What’s she going to do? Waffle about for a bit then go ask the lady supervisor what to do. Lady supervisor takes the note into the other room to tape it. I’m rung in, and I say “I’ll be paying with that $20,” pointing to the door that the supervisor went through. She doesn’t punch in $20 and give me my change, we have to wait. “Oh, because your till might end up short”, I say kindly, suddenly realizing the problem. So we wait. What are we going to talk about. Well, there are some jugs of water over there. Big heavy jugs, one stack for $4 and one stack for $5. I ask her what makes the $5 stack worth $1 more. Is the water better? She doesn’t know. I ask her to try and sell me the $5 bottle. She’s not sure how, she knows I don’t want the water. I ask her why it’s $1 more. Well, it’s a better bottle, there’s a $10 deposit on it and the other ones have no deposit. “You mean I have to pay $10 for the bottle and $1 more for the water?” And she confirms that that’s how it works, smiling because I’m smiling. I’m joking around. “Well, I’m sorry, you’re not going to sell me that water.” I look back at the bottles. The more expensive bottle has a handle and the other bottle doesn’t. I point that out. She doesn’t know what I’m trying to say. “But I guess if I wanted the bottle without the handle I could have someone carry it to my car, yeah?” “Yeah.” “Oh, so the handle’s not worth $1”. “Nope”. And we’re both still smiling. She knows I’m just loving with her but she wonders if we’re flirting.

And she can’t give me of one drat idea of her own and she wants my approval. And I don’t have a loving car!

Do you think I can “make” a “woman” “consent” to sex?

Do you understand that trick with the snake and the tree and the apple and the axe? Is it better to not even think about it? Nevermind that, who wrote that story? Someone who could see what was happening and wanted to let it happen, that’s who. And it worked for a while but I’m really loving sick of it. What was World War II really about?

Anyways, let’s go see what that pretty Christian girl likes about Jesus and stuff.

Didn’t see the pretty Christian girl, sadly. There were too many people, I didn’t really look around. Apologist talked about the Abrahamic tradition in the context of other religions, though, saying that other religions were essentially atheistic and sought one-ness or harmony or enlightenment or… you know… that sort of thing. I’m thinking that’s probably the interglacial model of religious development. Abrahamic tradition comes from environmental destruction and artificial scarcity in the fertile crescent and promotes competitiveness which is why it’s now the dominant superreligious/sexual model of development in human societies. Even countries with atheistic religions have adopted the big daddy dangerous world scarcity mode because scarcity is now a reality in those countries.

So how do we move past it?

Sex needs to be free and available but reproduction limited and sex for sex’s sake cannot be the goal. The problem that we have now under the universal respect for persons, feminism, political correctness paradigm is that nobody can loving believe it. It’s obviously bullshit. Every girl knows that not every boy likes her and every boy knows that not every girl likes him. So each of them holds a mirror up to the other trying to figure out who they are and they’re looking at a mirror in a mirror and it’s empty into eternity. And they piss all their money away on stupid poo poo that they just don’t need. And they get laid but the boy feels like he tricked the girl and the girl feels like she isn’t being appreciated and they’re still sexually frustrated just using each other to jack off, and they’re not getting what they need and they don’t know who they are. That’s how the world burns. That’s how we march toward the matrix.

So how do we move past it?

I don’t really know.

Young people are so lost that it might be possible to erect a new religion just with… nah… gently caress that.

It’d make more sense to strip down Christianity to the faith of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. A “nice boys and girls” model. I could do that as a cult leader but then I’ve got a cult. I don’t want a cult. Well, I sort of do, and I do wonder what I’m going to do after school. But the problem there is still that you’ve got a leader. I want equality which I think means maintaining anonymity (I also don’t want people thinking I’m crazy).

I don’t think that our understanding of the brain is so far advanced that we can measure the meaningfulness of ideas. I don’t like psychiatric drugs. They seem to me a necessary evil but I’d rather we didn’t need them. I trust intuition and impulse above all else, use words when I have to. I’m not really convinced that we can change modes scientifically. Science is cool poo poo. I like it. But it’s hard to make people believe it when we really know so little.

No, people need something that’s bigger than themselves that believes in them so that they can believe in themselves. I’ve met the Christian god and he is ugly and shameful. We need a “new” god. But what? How? It must be hedonistic, thoughtful, careful and neither/both male/female.

I really do like the idea of just stripping Christianity down to bare bones, though, keeping the whole bible intact as a reminder not to believe everything you read. There’s a bunch of good stuff in there. And it would maintain the idea of divine purpose if we could explain how it works, how it got us where we are.

The problem, as I say, is that god guy. Big cock sky daddy. He’s actually a lonely monkey eating his arms and he hates himself. He’s disgusting and wants to be forgotten and wants to be loved and he’s jealous and unworthy and so very lonely. Has the highest hopes for humanity. Wants us to add an eighth day to the week. “And on the eighth day, man dreamed.” I want that. Our society is becoming unbearable.

I’ve never actually read Brave New World.

The problems are “authority”, shame and fear. I want to abolish them. “Authority” meaning coercive power. It’s an enemy to honesty. It’s why patients have a hard time talking to doctors, for example. Put me in a room with a nice lady doctor and it’s… weird. It doesn’t work. It sort of does but, no, not really. But I do like her.

I just did a funny calculation. The number of synapses in a human brain is some 10 000 times the cubed population of the earth. I’m not sure how many types of receptors are at each synapse but it’s not really important. Can you imagine a whole world’s worth of people lined up shoulder to shoulder in line, cubed, each with just one word to say? Can you make sense of what they’re all working together to say? If every synapse carried one “message” in one moment and each message was a word the length of the average word in this document then the “brain’s message” would be 20,000,000,000,000,000,000 pages long. Print it off, that stack of papers is 1.6 trillion kilometres high. A mere 0.17 light years but that’ll still get you across the solar system 360 times.

Brains are big. Minds are small. It’s easier to work on minds, don’t you think? With their words and feelings and stuff? We’ve already got the hardware and the software and a natural understanding of how it all works. That’s why I want to learn how to live my life without antipsychotics. It’s not that I don’t trust you, doctor; rather I trust my understanding of my mind more than I do your understanding of my brain. You would you risk breaking my mind to fix my brain? Do you not dream? Why do you dream?

redshirt
Aug 11, 2007

Hailing frequencies

Jimbo Jaggins posted:

Where am I? What am I doing here? What's going on?

These aren't meant to be easy questions and they're not. Some people pretend that they know the answers or that the answers don’t matter because they need to trust themselves. They “lie” to themselves on purpose. Schizophrenics tell themselves “the truth” by accident. They just can’t help it. They secretly “know” that they “are” poo poo and that they “should” kill themselves. They're not brave enough to call these “truths” their own so they let the voices in their head speak on their behalf. They are trying desperately hard to be sane and they’re almost able to do it but then they see God when they watch TV and his cock is just way so much bigger than theirs. Lady schizophrenics can’t believe that they’re almost good mothers (who would never do anything “dirty” in bed). What if schizophrenics could only talk to other people rather than reading newspapers and watching TV?

I find it difficult to lie or tell any certain truth. That’s why I failed medical ethics.

You wanna really wind some cops up; wind them up like little marching soldiers? Tell them that their cocks are tiny and no woman could ever love them. You wanna wind up a whole country? Tell them that their cocks are huge and you’ll help keep their children safe. You wanna know what makes me "different" from a "normal" "schizophrenic"? There's a music video that encapsulates it: Flowbots - Handlebars. I consider myself a free man. Schizophrenics are slaves to “truth” and “the truth” just doesn’t make sense. When you look another person in the eyes, if you can see if they’re lying and you can guess why they’d lie then you also know “their truth.” Why can’t schizophrenics express themselves? Why do they dodge glances and scribble gibberish?

Anyways, where am I? What am I doing here? What’s going on?

I don’t even “know”. I can’t. I can go to church and “make” people wonder if I’m God just by showing up drunk and saying what I want to say and doing what I want to do. It makes me insane (no quotation marks). The doctrine that allows me to do it: “What if you and I are both incomplete but perfect images of a perfect god? Then isn’t everything we feel, think and do right? Is either of us more right than the other?” Ask that to a depressed man who’s also an alcoholic and with OCD in such a way that he believes it and you cure him of his “alcoholism”, his “depression” and his “OCD”.. It also goes a long way if you can laugh with him at his silly little problems like puking all over the place and spending Christmas alone and losing his job. That’s when that God business really started going to my head. I think it was maybe four days before my church visit. And I got arrested on Monday night, the day after church. Should have heard me shouting at the cops: “I want to rip your loving head off! I want to tear your heart out! I want to crawl inside your stinking corpse and poo poo out your rear end! I loving hate you! I really loving hate you! Don’t you get it?!” Put the fear of God into them, I did. Four car arrest, I think, maybe ten cops involved, and no physical violence on my part. Just cops being cops and me being an rear end in a top hat.

And that’s only a $65 fine only because I had no interest in hurting anyone. I was clearly not in my right mind the day before I came into student health services. I didn’t care where I was going or whether I got hit by a car on the way. I’d have been “fine” being taken anywhere but jail. I’m going to contest that “fine”.

Language is metaphorical and people take it literally. The map is not the territory, and all that. Synonyms, words repeat themselves, people repeat what they hear on TV, way so complicated when you’re experiencing manic psychosis. Why do people in psych wards and jails tap on the walls of their lonely, solitary cells? How did human language evolve?

“Hurr-duh-durr that sounds a little like Haekel’s discredited idea about tadpoles and I read it my textbook that…” You’d not believe how many well-educated dumbasses I meet. Why doesn’t ontogeny recapitulate phylogeny? Is that not a meaningful metaphor sometimes? If you could see my face you’d see that I’m honestly joking and I’m honestly annoyed and I’m honestly asking. Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one who tries to be honest. Sometimes it doesn’t. That’s one thing that I like about both of you, doctors.

Anyways, yeah, next day after jail I realize that I’ve maybe had a man go off his medication four or five days ago and he might do… anything. Anything at all. And I’m responsible for that? poo poo poo poo poo poo poo poo poo poo!

Let’s go ask that nice lady doctor what to do about this. Good thinking, right? Except that I can’t see her without an appointment unless it’s an emergency. Manic episodes are an emergency, right? Yeah, that’ll do it. Good thinking, right?

Nope, that thinking got me locked up for four days out of contact with this fellow that I was worried about and the cops wouldn’t go check on him and the doctors go check on him and the nurses wouldn’t go check on him and nobody would check on him but me, and I was locked up in the madhouse. Who is mad?

Luckily I was unlocked despite there being no possible way for a doctor to know what I’d do when he let me go (other than looking me in the eye to see if I was lying. Thanks, doc!). So I went to see this fellow when I got out of Homewood and… get this… he’s thinking of checking himself into Homewood. I supported the idea and that meant something to him. People are funny, aren’t they? You just never know what they’re going to do. That’s kind of the point of them.

I can’t go through all the spiritual implications of freedom, power, responsibility and trust/faith. But there are a lot of them, and they are all quite pointed when you’re locked up manic and alone on a psych ward wondering if God wants you to kill yourself to save the world. I asked the nurse for a bedtime story and she said that she couldn’t tell me one but she could give me a teddy bear. I laughed uncontrollably. She was speaking the word of God just because she was speaking honestly and she honestly thought I was being silly. So I laughed. And I felt better.

Ever seen that x-ray of the man with a masonry nail buried all the way into the front of his head? He hammered it in by himself because he was psychotic and he thought he should do that. I could have done that. I felt like I should have, just I didn’t want to, and I wasn’t sure. Good thing the nurse thought I was being silly, even if she “couldn’t” tell me a bedtime story. What if I’d caught her on a bad day? Oh, but there’s thing, I’d have looked her in the eye and known whether she was speaking honestly and directly to me. Like we’re reading each other’s minds. Psychosis is cool poo poo.

There is a gift and a trick in everything. Apples and axes. What to do with the tree of knowledge? Did Nietzsche, bless his heart, really manage to move Beyond Good and Evil? I know that I haven’t, but I feel like I’ve gotten a little bit closer than he did. Neitzsche liked mountain tops. My friend values his mental fortitude and indeed his mind is like a fort, though his IQ is higher than mine. I like wide open plains. I like the forest. I like the ocean. I like the swamp. I like the mountain. I storm the fort. At least, that’s what I say when I’m trying to sound like a real philosophical king poo poo know-it-all. Other times I need a nurse to tell me a bedtime story so that I know I won’t die in my sleep. And she “can’t” and I don’t sleep because I can’t. Also, weirdest thing, when I was thinking alone in cell my body felt normal or maybe a little tense. When I tried to stop thinking it felt tingly all over and I got an erection and I knew if it went much further I’d have to have those poor nurses do something with my cum stained hospital clothes. Scary. No sleep for me, though. Legs started shaking when I stopped thinking. And all I could think about was whether I’m supposed to kill myself, whether I should disobey even if it’s an order, whether I care one way or the other about it, what will happen if I do, or don’t, whether whether what what. Would I have gone to heaven or hell if I slept? If I killed myself?

I consider myself agnostic and I don’t really think it’s all that important a question. But these things are fun to think about, aren’t they?

Remember those experiments where they raised a monkey without parental care then stuck in a dark box or whatever, and it peeled its face off and chewed its arms off or whatever? It felt like that monkey was me, or God, or just a monkey. The big bang is what was going on in that monkey’s head to cure his loneliness as he peels his face off. What goes through a man’s head when he hammers a nail into it? Other than the nail, I mean. There’s another vision of God. A pretty girl with seven billion pricks stuffed up her fat stinkyhole (profane on purpose) in perfect ecstasy until… a moment of clarity… she realizes that she’s perfectly alone and she’s actually just masturbating with dildos made of flesh. She births the whole of humanity because she’s lonely.

Anyways, yeah, I’m rambling.

Where am I? I don’t really care. It’s not important.

What am I doing here? Well, I a few days ago I was seeing into eternity, talking to “God” and thinking that I can do whatever I want with it with “His” approval… but not knowing what I was supposed to do. Now I’m writing to my doctors about it. Might even be that I’m adding an eighth day to the week (that was a joke [that was a joke {that was a joke}]). What does the echo of laugher sound like? Like two people laughing? How lonely it would be to be God, eh? I sure glad I’m not him/her.

What’s going on? Good people are doing awful things to each other because they don’t know who they really are, and they’re forced to operate within systems that make them do bad things, and don’t they even see it. I want to change that.

The problem, “I think” (should we end the sentence here?), is that humans have bimodal reproductive strategies and patterns for sexual development and we’re still operating on the scarcity paradigm that would have been beneficial during the last ice age (there have been many glacial and interglacial periods during the course of human evolution). We began farming during the warm, interglacial Holocene and destroyed the environment in the Fertile Crescent meaning that the scarcity mode was still required even during an interglacial period. Probably that’s the first time that scarcity reproductive strategies were required by a lot of people on a large scale during what was a time of plenty elsewhere in the world. Religion in that region managed to hold together ever-growing, scarcity-motivated societies by making a bigger and better daddy figure. Now we’re using that daddy figure in a post-scarcity part of the world because the sexual frustration that the scarcity-motivated reproductive strategy is actually a really loving strong motivation for men to figure out ways to acquire resources. So good, in fact, that we’re now entering a time of plenty in which the daddy-figure is not required to avoid population level catastrophe. Daddy in a time of scarcity when there were few people alive would, of course, be your daddy and he would have protected you. Bigger groups with scarce resources need bigger and better daddies. Peoples living in areas with plentiful resources operate differently, but our daddy can beat up their daddy because we measure time and use money. The only good thing about either is that we can attach numbers to them, count them, and so account for scarce resources.

Now it’s all boiling over. It’s gone to pot. It’s done and I feel like I’m the only one who sees why. But everyone sees it; just they can’t believe what they’re seeing. It’s too horrid. They don’t even want to think about it.

How do you feel when you see that picture of the starving kid during the Sudanese famine chasing on hands and knees after the man who stole his corn? Me, I want to boot his brains out because he disgusts me. And I want to boot the other guy’s brains out because he disgusts me. And, hey, free corn!

But that’s not what I’d do, of course. I just have to admit that that’s how I feel. Probably a lot of men feel that way only they’re too ashamed to admit it. Me, I lost the last of my shame during a months-long speed binge. Oddly enough, that makes me more confident. Or maybe I’m brain damaged. Whatever. Don’t care. It’s a lot easier to be honest with a bit of humility, though. And I have humility in spades. I’m just about the humblest guy I know. Way so humble. That’s what makes me such a cool guy, so easy to talk to. Chicks dig my humility, not gonna lie. Men too. Sometimes it feels like I’m God or something, that’s how humiliated and shameless and confident and honest I am. Go me!

Oh, you would not believe how frustrating this is. I’m at the grocery store, right, and it’s a pretty girl at the checkout and I’m not the least bit nervous and neither is she. I look her kindly in the eyes because I like pretty girls and she can see that I think she’s pretty so I like her and that I don’t want to surprise sex her because I like her. Boom! She has an epiphany, like she’s in love or something, doesn’t know how to feel about it. She literally starts shaking, fumbling, saying silly things. She was probably sexually aroused, as was I. The difference between me and her: I was comfortable with this and thought it perfectly normal and healthy and she did not feel that way. Neither of us was able to acknowledge how we felt. That’s not healthy, but it is normal.

And it’s like this all the time. Way more often than it should be.

And Christians wonder why some people are “gay”? I get annoyed when “straight” men want to have sex with me but I don’t wonder why.

And feminism? The fundamental assumption seems to me to be that women are powerless and men are evil. I don’t really know much about it, but I feel like feminists build on that assumption while trying to explain it away. “Careful with that axiom, Eugene,” is the subtitle to the book Pink Floyd and Philosophy. I bought that book six years ago and still haven’t read it. But it seems to me that everything men do, including music, is done for sex. That’s why they control so many things: because they so desperately want to get laid. We’re still using the ice age mode of human sexual development 10,000 years into the Holocene. I haven’t read Roy Baumeister’s book but he’s probably pretty close and probably a little bit off.

What is the ice age mode of human sexual development? I’ve not read any of his books but Freud was probably pretty close and probably a little bit off.

“What if you and I are both incomplete but perfect images of a perfect god? Then isn’t everything we feel, think and do right? Is either of us more right than the other?”

Should I let “pick up artists” in on the secret? Should I feel responsible for what they might do with it?

Anyways, schizophrenia, Jayne did some work on bicameral minds and he’s probably pretty close and probably a little off. I don’t know because I haven’t read his work. He needs to consider Milankovich cycles and bimodal human reproductive strategies and the expressiveness of human faces. Whatever, not my work.

What is my work? Taking so much speed that I can sometimes see through literal and figurative walls. That and nearly flunking out of school (thanks, doc!).

I’ve been writing this as fast as I can type and I’m missing half the thoughts that run through my head (I’ve since edited). Look a pretty girl in the eyes with a genuine smile, though, and she understands everything that she needs to know. Look a man in the eyes and you’ll know if he’s lying.

What’s the most important trend in human evolution? Higher investment in fewer, better offspring. Better mothers and better fathers. What are the implications? They are beyond counting. I would wager that female genitalia have been getting smaller and more sensitive as first sexual encounters get more painful in spite of women showing cross-cultural preference for larger flaccid penises. What would this mean in the context of a loving monogamous relationship? How do bonobos use sex and what are their genitals like? Why don’t feminists like evo-psych? Why are there so many male feminists?

Way too much to say. Way too much. I feel like I’m ready to turn a 31,000 year old paradigm on its head and bring world peace. Whatever. Not my work? Well, my marks probably won’t get me into a master’s program. I don’t really care what I take a master’s in. But is it not about time that I can tell a pretty grocery clerk that I like her because she’s pretty and she can tell me that she wants to have sex with me? I mean, we know how sex works. We have condoms and IUDs and this and that and the other thing. We pretty much have everything we need to be happy except… what… we just don’t want to be?

Where am I? What am I doing here? What’s going on?

How very simple these questions should be.

Am I a prophet? Does it even matter who I am if it doesn’t get me laid? Why were Jesus and Nietzsche so weird about women? Who would they have been if they weren’t?

Why do I drink? How did I end up psychotic? Why am I not psychotic now? What does it mean to experience psychosis? I can’t tell you because we don’t have words for it.

Why do people wear clothes? It’s right at the beginning of Genesis. Who wrote Genesis? It wasn’t me, I can tell you that much. Now.

What’s wrong with telling little boys not to fight at school or hit girls they like? Well, if you do then they don’t learn while they’re still harmless little boys that fighting hurts and girls they like don’t like being hit. Do we prefer surprise sex and murder to children with bloody noses and hurt feelings? Or have we just not given that question enough impartial thought?

What’s it like to be an unwed teenage mother? Embarrassing, apparently, if you can believe that. What’s wrong with being an unwed teenage mother?

What’s it like to be a stripper? Embarrassing, apparently, if you can believe that. What’s wrong with being a stripper?

What’s it like to be a homeless crack dealer and a murder convict as a black man in Detroit? Well, apparently it’s lonely; dude talked my ear off and walked me an hour out of his way rather than giving me directions.

This is simple stuff. So simple. The whole world is completely hosed despite being full of good people and I wouldn’t even mind watching it burn, just, that’s not what I want to do.

How do all these questions not drive you insane?

I became a student to take a holiday from those dreadful factories. You have no idea how I dread going back into those dreadful factories when I graduate. You have no idea how miserable they “made” my mother or how miserable she “made” me. You have no idea how I dread graduating with a degree in “biology” from one of the “best” “life sciences” “schools” in one of the “best” “countries” in the “world”.

I want to be a student forever.

Hopefully I don’t go mad trying.

Five pages is getting a little long. Better stop before I’ve accidentally written a book.

poo poo, I went back and edited. Better not make it eight pages. Nobody wants to read seven pages.

Sarcasm is a tool for cowardly tools, don’t you think?

Heh, alright, so I wrote all that a couple days ago. Forget about it. But I’ve still got this, uh, this document open. Might as well add on to the end. I’ve not been taking those pills. I don’t like them. I told my doctor at the school that I was taking them because she believes that I’m mentally ill and potentially dangerous and she wonders how a big strong man like me feels about women and what she can do about it and she’s only sure of what she reads in books and… Oh, it’s not easy getting help with “mental health”.

But you’re a cool guy. And she wants me to fo…

Wait, here’s an important thing. I believe that god talks to me everywhere. I believe that I can laugh with him. I wonder if I’m “the messiah” and what I’m supposed to do about it, and I know that whatever I do I must not tell people that I wonder this. But other people wonder it, and god talks to me in human words from human mouths. Man’s in the image of god, yes? So is not man’s mouth the same as god’s?

So anyways, I was walking to meet the nice lady doctor who worries about me and worries about a lot of other things, I’m sure, and I was going to tell her that I don’t believe in mental illness and I’m not taking my crazy pills and I’m a bit peeved that she had me locked up for four days, made me miss classes, yadda yadda yadda. And I am a bit peeved but I like her as a person even if I don’t respect her as a doctor. And I don’t. She doesn’t even respect herself as a doctor. She wonders whether I think she’s smart enough. She has to go ask another doctor before she writes me a bupropion script and then she hopes against hope that that’s not why I’m turning up manic after a week of heavy drinking and pretending to be God. So anyways, I mean I like her as a lady, she’s a nice lady, but she’s not a psychiatrist and she wants me to follow up with you.

You I like as a doctor. I barely know you as a man, but I sort of do, maybe. Anyways…

What was I writing?

Oh, poo poo, right, silly religious stuff. So they’re doing some Christian recruitment thing at the school, right, two girls standing alone in front of this board of notes on who everyone thinks Jesus is. They want to engage the campus community and they expect people to encapsulate jesus on a little piece of coloured paper. Nobody can do that, and they know it. So they want people to talk and they don’t think that people have anything worth saying. Silly, right? I point it out the hypocrisy politely, she doesn’t understand, whatever. Talk about other things. How big is God and how small is the bible? That sort of stuff. Does she believe in evolution? She started out looking me in the eye, toward the end she’s not so much able to, people always have to look away from each other when they think, have you noticed that? Of course you have. I bet there’s a whole textbook on it, or there should be, anyhow. Anyways, um, what was I thinking, oh, right, shooting the poo poo, she’s getting a little weird, “Okay, so maybe the big bang happened but that doesn’t mean that’s all there is” and it’s like she’s asking me. “I believe that to. You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to put up a blank piece of paper and just let people wonder what I’m thinking.”

And she’s in awe. Awww… she’s sweet. When I say awe, I mean that “flat affect” that doctor Davidson so observantly noted when I thought she was God during my “manic episode.” Anyways, pretty Christian girl, she wants me to go this, like, thing that they’re doing to help me know Jesus or something. Whatever. I want to go see her because she’s a pretty girl and I like her.

….

Wait, no, the lady doctor and what to tell her. Yeah. So I was walking to go see her and this guy’s walking this tiny little dog, the least scary dog you’ve ever seen. And the guy walking that dog held it back, like it was going to bite me, like I was the least bit scared of it even if it did want to bite me. And I said something like “It’s fine, mate, no worries”, telling him to just let the dog run, whatever. And he said something like “I’m just trying to keep him from doing something stupid”. And I walked past and this stupid little dog actually did bark and try to bite at me but the guy was holding it. Funny, but what does it mean?

Okay, so I’m the dog in this metaphor, and the me who’s walking is… and the guy who’s holding back the dog is god or something… it doesn’t even matter how the metaphor works. I don’t remember. But I’m the dog. What it meant was that my teeth aren’t so sharp as I think they are and all I’m going to do is get myself in trouble if I tell that nice lady doctor what I’m actually thinking.

So you see? Divine inspiration! And I get it loving EVERYWHERE! Every time I leave the house or look or my shoes or… do anything. It’s cool, though, because bible God’s no better than me, just a useful fiction (but don’t tell the pretty Christian girl that), but it’s the thought pattern. The way of thinking. I can’t escape it. Nobody can. Big cock sky daddy gonna keep all the little boys in line and tell the women to be chaste because the world’s a big, dangerous place and they need a big, dangerous man to love them with his big dangerous cock. See how that works? That’s the ice age mode of sexual development and WE’VE BUILT AN INTERGLACIAL SOCIETY ON TOP OF IT!

It can literally drive a man mad.

Oh, I can’t begin to say. Language controls our thoughts and filters our feelings. But it’s easy to understand things just intuitively. And intuition’s pretty powerful if you’re able to really get into it. Teenage grocery girls, they’re sexually aroused because I like them because they’re pretty and I don’t want to surprise sex them because I like them. Simple, right? And they see that when I look at them, and I’m not even meaning to make them uncomfortable, much less make them tremble or look uncomfortably at the counter or whatever sexually frustrated thing they do to avoid looking me in the eyes because they’re scared of their own sexuality. And she can’t even say that she likes me.

People are so weird.

Anyways, I think I’m going to let the pretty Christian girl hang onto a copy of Spinoza in French or Latin or something. I don’t know, I can’t read it. I hope she can’t either, but she’ll know enough Latin roots to kind of make sense of it. No, I’m not going to do this, actually; it’s belittling. But I would have told her how it’s like reading the bible. You almost know what it’s saying but you have to trust yourself to understand it. And you have to trust Spinoza to have thought carefully. And you have to trust that he’s not leading you astray. And you have to trust that you won’t be led astray. And she has to trust that I’m not leading her astray. And I have to trust that she’ll give the book back to me because if she doesn’t the library’s going to make me pay $50 or something stupid like that and “then it’s hell to pay *wink*”. And trust is only one kind of faith.

But, no, that’s me not reading what she puts on the silly little scrap of paper. And then I’m a hypocrite. So let’s not do that.

There are tests and tricks everywhere. Everywhere. All day, every day. I feel like I’m pretty good at negotiating them but it’s not always as easy as it should be. I want to change that. I don’t want pretty teenage girls to tremble when I look them in the eye. I want them to be comfortable.

Why do I smoke? I do it for social reasons. Am I dying for the sins of man?

Why do I keep snakes? Why did god put that tree in the garden and why couldn’t eve stop thinking about it, hmm? And who wrote that story? What does “God” want? Why should I care what big swinging cock jealous skydaddy wants? I see the apocalypse coming if we’re not careful. Not the end of the world, but the matrix. We are losing our humanity. I had to sign a consent form to have the nice lady doctor get some forms on me from the nice man doctor neither of whom thinks I’m dangerous. I did not have to sign a consent form to spend three nights under lock and key for being crazy.

I’m not going to give that nice lady doctor the 47 page letter that I wrote to her as I was writing myself into psychosis. You want? Will you lock me up if I give it to you?

Right, I just stepped out for a smoke, talked to my roommate, a 200 pound blond and blue-eyed Pole who’s scared of coyotes and doesn’t know how he feels about Nazism and wonders if we’re living in the Matrix.

But that’s not the point? Do I even have a point?

No, it was more of a question. Alright, so find a pretty girl, ask her “You ever notice people always look away from each other when they’re trying to think? Why do you think that is?” What’s she going to do, she’s going to look away to think about it. “Oh! See!? Nope, you can’t do it, can you? You can’t look me in the eye and think at the same time! Or, can you?” She might then try to do it. That’s going to get weird, eh? Should it be?

Have humans ever been telepathic? Will we be? How did language evolve and what does it do?

What do we really know about human sexuality? The expressiveness of human faces? What it is to be human? I can guarantee you that it’s not all in the textbooks yet.

What kinds of men write textbooks and why do so few women do it? Why are women now dominating university admissions?

How simple are these questions?

Why does the nice lady doctor want me to keep talking to you when we’re able to just look each other in the eye and know that there’s nothing to be afraid of? Hmm….?

Is “God” making her make me make you make yourself make me… better?

I really do believe that I have been to heaven. I really do believe that I can laugh with god. I really do believe that I’m “the Messaih” or “the ubermensch” or whatever silly name you want to use. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to hurt anyone and I don’t want to kill myself. I really do believe in fate. And I really don’t know when I’m going to jack off next or what to do with this pretty Christian girl.

You see how silly everything is?

You see?

And how will you diagnose me? Bipolar? Schizophrenic? Schizoaffective? Healthy? And what will I tell the nice lady doctor?

Such big, easy questions that nobody is willing to ask or answer, and it drives me up the wall and there’s only so much I can do about it.

Why are there so many sexual puns and why do women like a man with a sense of humour. What happens if you look the girl at the coffee shop kindly in the eye and ask for a “big, black coffee”, gesturing the vertical height of the coffee horizontally at waste level. Will she hear “big, black cock” and blush? Have you ever tried avoiding sexual innuendo altogether while still making comfortable eye contact? Is it possible to have a whole conversation that way? “Come” on, think about “it”. God, I wish people would just let themselves think about it.

How does language control our thoughts, and what do we use it for?

You know, I can write scientifically. I prefer a conversational style. So did Nietzsche. Why do so few people get his jokes? Did Hitler get them?

Why everything?

But anyways, yeah, lady doctor doesn’t trust herself and she wants me to talk to you, man doctor.

So here’s a funny story that’s really not all that funny. My $20 bill is ripped and I’m at the grocery checkout and I ask the cashier, “have you got some tape?”. It’s a test and a trick for her. She doesn’t have tape. Will she accept the note and tape it on her break? Nope. She asks if that’s how I’m paying. Yep. poo poo, now we’ve got a problem, see, ‘cause I smiled at her and she thinks that I think the note needs to be taped. It doesn’t. It’s only about 20% ripped off meaning that the remaining 80% is legal tender even without the other piece. But nevermind that. Pretend it’s not money unless it’s taped. What’s she going to do? Waffle about for a bit then go ask the lady supervisor what to do. Lady supervisor takes the note into the other room to tape it. I’m rung in, and I say “I’ll be paying with that $20,” pointing to the door that the supervisor went through. She doesn’t punch in $20 and give me my change, we have to wait. “Oh, because your till might end up short”, I say kindly, suddenly realizing the problem. So we wait. What are we going to talk about. Well, there are some jugs of water over there. Big heavy jugs, one stack for $4 and one stack for $5. I ask her what makes the $5 stack worth $1 more. Is the water better? She doesn’t know. I ask her to try and sell me the $5 bottle. She’s not sure how, she knows I don’t want the water. I ask her why it’s $1 more. Well, it’s a better bottle, there’s a $10 deposit on it and the other ones have no deposit. “You mean I have to pay $10 for the bottle and $1 more for the water?” And she confirms that that’s how it works, smiling because I’m smiling. I’m joking around. “Well, I’m sorry, you’re not going to sell me that water.” I look back at the bottles. The more expensive bottle has a handle and the other bottle doesn’t. I point that out. She doesn’t know what I’m trying to say. “But I guess if I wanted the bottle without the handle I could have someone carry it to my car, yeah?” “Yeah.” “Oh, so the handle’s not worth $1”. “Nope”. And we’re both still smiling. She knows I’m just loving with her but she wonders if we’re flirting.

And she can’t give me of one drat idea of her own and she wants my approval. And I don’t have a loving car!

Do you think I can “make” a “woman” “consent” to sex?

Do you understand that trick with the snake and the tree and the apple and the axe? Is it better to not even think about it? Nevermind that, who wrote that story? Someone who could see what was happening and wanted to let it happen, that’s who. And it worked for a while but I’m really loving sick of it. What was World War II really about?

Anyways, let’s go see what that pretty Christian girl likes about Jesus and stuff.

Didn’t see the pretty Christian girl, sadly. There were too many people, I didn’t really look around. Apologist talked about the Abrahamic tradition in the context of other religions, though, saying that other religions were essentially atheistic and sought one-ness or harmony or enlightenment or… you know… that sort of thing. I’m thinking that’s probably the interglacial model of religious development. Abrahamic tradition comes from environmental destruction and artificial scarcity in the fertile crescent and promotes competitiveness which is why it’s now the dominant superreligious/sexual model of development in human societies. Even countries with atheistic religions have adopted the big daddy dangerous world scarcity mode because scarcity is now a reality in those countries.

So how do we move past it?

Sex needs to be free and available but reproduction limited and sex for sex’s sake cannot be the goal. The problem that we have now under the universal respect for persons, feminism, political correctness paradigm is that nobody can loving believe it. It’s obviously bullshit. Every girl knows that not every boy likes her and every boy knows that not every girl likes him. So each of them holds a mirror up to the other trying to figure out who they are and they’re looking at a mirror in a mirror and it’s empty into eternity. And they piss all their money away on stupid poo poo that they just don’t need. And they get laid but the boy feels like he tricked the girl and the girl feels like she isn’t being appreciated and they’re still sexually frustrated just using each other to jack off, and they’re not getting what they need and they don’t know who they are. That’s how the world burns. That’s how we march toward the matrix.

So how do we move past it?

I don’t really know.

Young people are so lost that it might be possible to erect a new religion just with… nah… gently caress that.

It’d make more sense to strip down Christianity to the faith of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. A “nice boys and girls” model. I could do that as a cult leader but then I’ve got a cult. I don’t want a cult. Well, I sort of do, and I do wonder what I’m going to do after school. But the problem there is still that you’ve got a leader. I want equality which I think means maintaining anonymity (I also don’t want people thinking I’m crazy).

I don’t think that our understanding of the brain is so far advanced that we can measure the meaningfulness of ideas. I don’t like psychiatric drugs. They seem to me a necessary evil but I’d rather we didn’t need them. I trust intuition and impulse above all else, use words when I have to. I’m not really convinced that we can change modes scientifically. Science is cool poo poo. I like it. But it’s hard to make people believe it when we really know so little.

No, people need something that’s bigger than themselves that believes in them so that they can believe in themselves. I’ve met the Christian god and he is ugly and shameful. We need a “new” god. But what? How? It must be hedonistic, thoughtful, careful and neither/both male/female.

I really do like the idea of just stripping Christianity down to bare bones, though, keeping the whole bible intact as a reminder not to believe everything you read. There’s a bunch of good stuff in there. And it would maintain the idea of divine purpose if we could explain how it works, how it got us where we are.

The problem, as I say, is that god guy. Big cock sky daddy. He’s actually a lonely monkey eating his arms and he hates himself. He’s disgusting and wants to be forgotten and wants to be loved and he’s jealous and unworthy and so very lonely. Has the highest hopes for humanity. Wants us to add an eighth day to the week. “And on the eighth day, man dreamed.” I want that. Our society is becoming unbearable.

I’ve never actually read Brave New World.

The problems are “authority”, shame and fear. I want to abolish them. “Authority” meaning coercive power. It’s an enemy to honesty. It’s why patients have a hard time talking to doctors, for example. Put me in a room with a nice lady doctor and it’s… weird. It doesn’t work. It sort of does but, no, not really. But I do like her.

I just did a funny calculation. The number of synapses in a human brain is some 10 000 times the cubed population of the earth. I’m not sure how many types of receptors are at each synapse but it’s not really important. Can you imagine a whole world’s worth of people lined up shoulder to shoulder in line, cubed, each with just one word to say? Can you make sense of what they’re all working together to say? If every synapse carried one “message” in one moment and each message was a word the length of the average word in this document then the “brain’s message” would be 20,000,000,000,000,000,000 pages long. Print it off, that stack of papers is 1.6 trillion kilometres high. A mere 0.17 light years but that’ll still get you across the solar system 360 times.

Brains are big. Minds are small. It’s easier to work on minds, don’t you think? With their words and feelings and stuff? We’ve already got the hardware and the software and a natural understanding of how it all works. That’s why I want to learn how to live my life without antipsychotics. It’s not that I don’t trust you, doctor; rather I trust my understanding of my mind more than I do your understanding of my brain. You would you risk breaking my mind to fix my brain? Do you not dream? Why do you dream?

I dream of a forum free of these ramblings.

Sabel
Aug 11, 2004



Jimbo Jaggins posted:

You wanna really wind some cops up; wind them up like little marching soldiers? Tell them that their cocks are tiny and no woman could ever love them. You wanna wind up a whole country? Tell them that their cocks are huge and you’ll help keep their children safe. You wanna know what makes me "different" from a "normal" "schizophrenic"? There's some music that encapsulates it: Flowbots - Handlebars.

i lost my poo poo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=91JWEf9TDjU

drunken officeparty
Aug 23, 2006



this can only end well

porkchop_express
May 27, 2004


he wants to eat your cockmeat sandwich

Jimbo Jaggins
Jul 19, 2013


shall I do it?

shall I'll tell him to post?

he's disappeared somewhere but I'm sure he'll be back to rant at me soon. I told him to go back out after he told me he's just gone to church to drink vodka and talk about sex. he literally goes out and says the same things to people and no-one does anything.

he's in Guelph, Ontario. maybe you've spotted him

Gerty
Jun 11, 2013


I don't even "know"

Sid Delicious
Oct 31, 2007

this thread...it was made for me

Jimbo Jaggins posted:

shall I do it?

shall I'll tell him to post?

he's disappeared somewhere but I'm sure he'll be back to rant at me soon. I told him to go back out after he told me he's just gone to church to drink vodka and talk about sex. he literally goes out and says the same things to people and no-one does anything.

he's in Guelph, Ontario. maybe you've spotted him

holy poo poo dude im also in guelph ontario this is actually scaring me that i posted that i was a crazy person in your thread, wanna hang out, got any weed lol

redshirt
Aug 11, 2007

Hailing frequencies

Jimbo Jaggins posted:

shall I do it?

shall I'll tell him to post?

Yes please.

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hemale in pain
Jun 5, 2010



Sid Vicious posted:

holy poo poo dude im also in guelph ontario this is actually scaring me that i posted that i was a crazy person in your thread, wanna hang out, got any weed lol

dont do this op

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