so, i’m fucking mental

I thought I would address it for any one who may or may not have noticed it yet: I am fucking mental.

I’m not trying to turn this into my nearly decade old LiveJournal from my youth, with a lot of glorified life and feelings diary entries… I do’t think I could write such personal drivel everyday as I did then, which I sometimes think may have been more unhealthy than therapeutic just because of how negative and horrible I could be. — But who knows. Maybe it was the only way I could get through it was to write that stuff. It was characteristic teenage angst mixed with a portion of some type of undeveloped vast pools of some type of intelligence that didn’t grow up well into its 20’s.

If you look the blog posts I’e done here, it seems like I came around intent to talk about ska and other Jamaican music, as well as patwah, and I wrote at length about that for a short time before I disappeared and came back to analyze my older writings, which I forgot entirely that I was even intending to do till a couple days ago when it occurred to me, “Didn’t I have a place I was writing?” just like I always do when I find some I made that I don’t really… remember, know who the person is that I see always, etc.

That problem is not nearly as bad as it could be, but other people definitely notice. Sometimes I struggle to get through work but force myself till I can’tand it almost would start the ruin of my work relationships, if nopt for that when I’m on point, I’m on point, and when I’m not on point, I’m well closer than a lot of other people, if depression is what nearly gets me fired, it’s mania that comes around and sends me into a torrent for several days in which I save the entire staff single highhandedly by solving problems myself and doing it so well that morale saves everyone from a failure.

Anyone can see that I struggle with some form of occasional mood disorder, possibly milder dissociative personality disorders, having episodic occasions of delirium and pre-psychosis that is so far been only ever temporary if it gets that bad, and never to a degree where I cannot tell that I’m hallucinating and what isn’t real. Well, not very often has that ever happened. The first times I was confused but I learned how to know through logical reasoning based on a lot of things hat is likely that vividly imagined things are present but not a need for concern because they are not real.

I want to write in this, but there may be times where I just seem to radically change without transition or acknowledgement of it even ever happening in my own mind.

This will often result in disappearances that you can’t explain, if it gets to be out of control.

I know I almost started working on literature called, “Unionists Against Communism,” which was intended to be directed at places like Texas, where fear of any form of social thing is viewed as intrinsicly dangerous, to the point that the entire state has refusded to facilitate good unions for anyone working there, but has also convinced the common man living there that the union is a disadvantage to him, by allowing a system of unions that have no chance of any success at all.

Working in the industry I work in, the need for unions is a bnig deal. I know a lot of people in my real life whose stories of their abuse at the hands of employers.

I also don’t want to turn this into talk about work corner, but ther point is that unions can be good and a thing workers deserve to have in their corner. And, that just because we are for some socialized programs and things that are paid for by taxes, that doesn’t mean we’re all, “PRIVATE ENTERPRISE SHOULD DIE TODAY FOR THE GOOD OF ALL
In general, Americanns and probably other similar places have a difficult time understanding that a socialized program doesn’t rabbit hole into absolute communist extremist, no more the opposite is true of people who see the value of capitalism but still understand that there needs to a government to check the power of the other.

A lot of good ideas in government get shut down in this place. The neighborhood in the city I live in is a fairly liberal one surrounded by the red. We’re too small a district of course and are drawn out to fail on maps, because black people live here. Gerrymandering, I believe it’s called: when the drawing of district lines uses population demographics to decide where the lines gop, thus making irrelevant entire areas of people. And yeah, common people here in San Antonio (the liberals you never hear about and the conservatives everywhere) can be very all or nothing and fervently all for something without any actual sound reasoning beyond just a profound sense of pride and greatnmess that for some reason is all important to some people.

So, my point is there are people who need a voice here in San Antonio, Texas, that for many reasons, people in the world don’t know exist. And it’s really time someone started to explain how we can be for unions and not communists to people who are too simple and from the country to understand it.

I confessed at length many different feelings for someone that’s my friend who already knows I’m super intense. I feel like I’m annoying to her. But, she’s been my friend a long time, knows me well, and puts up with me even if she can’t find the words to say to how fucked up I am.

I used to write a lot about my love life in my old livejournals. Now, I only occasionally have one and I’m just not interested enough in the game of it all to obsess over it enough.

The types of feelings I confess are vert fucking intense and forward, but they aren’t desperate and weak. It’s just the truth. And I know it’s probably just me who would go all that far with it and probably seem so delirious and insane to her (because I am), but it’s okay. I know for sure that she loves me enough that I could never complain at life or ask for more than that. She tolerates me. And she’s so sweet in her own way for that, because other people don’t do that.

I just wanted to tell her. And, I guess I told her a little too much. I guess that’s my trademark.

So, I’m not writing about any of the things I was writing about before. There are other things I recall vaguely writing that I didn’t mention, or post, but will probably find somewhere eventually.

It is getting more difficult to manage (functioning like productive person) but… maybe I’m just determined enough to make it happen. Lately I’ve been growing in that direction, and even if there are spikes of hard times, it’s overall getting better with my life over the last few years.

This post will serve to transition into something else, after a few weeks of not logging in.


This Post Does Not Contain Thing Ignorant People Fear

We’re going to be talking about the genres of my writing. If you are new to my writing, you may not have seen the things I am talking about yet. I plan to to change that if you continue visiting my zine written.

The first thing I probably need to address is the GOS conundrum (a graphomanic obsession session), which this does not count as though it be strikingly similar in some ways. In order to identify what makes a writing labeled as such, we must say what writings cannot be labeled so; otherwise, all writings would appear to be graphomanic.

Without further adieu, here is the writing, originally printed in July 2016.


This is a “wall-of-manifesto” piece I wrote and originally posted to DadaNoise or an Instagram as a caption to a photograph. I edited it slightly and saved it to a graphic, because why not. Writings like this also have characteristics I categorize as, “ran on ranting clauses” and “non-poem prosaics.” These are all often types of my “graphomanic obsession sessions,” which it is important to note that this does not qualify as. While it could have been one such, it lacks the qualifying factor that is,

–GOS (graphomanic obsession session) documents are always characterized by–

…a repetition of the same words, phrases, thoughts, and ideas; occurring more than twice, and interrupting the movement from one thought into the next without insistence to further elaborate the same thing.

It need not be ongoing completely without transition to anything else, but in the text, an eventual return to the point already made must characterize the development of points from sense into seeming nonsense; or, seemingly unrelated points that meld together and…

the document may be a wall of text or a line break prosaic poem or almost anything at all, but it must perpetuate itself into an unending loop of characteristic mania…

Lastly, the characteristics described need not characterize the beginning of a document; it is only that they eventually can be identified in the text that is important to categorizing the work.

Though the style is similar to many writings I will call graphomanic, …thing that sounds bad to the all knowing consumer!, is lacking in the way of being an obsessive compulsive inability to break out of the the mental state that makes for such writing.

What makes it a “ran on rant” might seem obvious until you have observed more pure and clear examples of this genre. There are not nearly enough semicolons, parentheses, and em-dashes to truly show off what I mean when I call it the “ran on ranting clauses.” But, it still is.

The “non-poem prosaic” is essentially a thing that is not designed to be interpreted as a poem, or a lyric, which expresses itself in a style of diction that is less straight forward than prose typically is and found more often in poetry. Often times it will be a wall of text, as if to intentionally forego line breaks or a sense of metre, because it isn’t a poem. Other times it will have arbitrary line breaks thrown in haphazardly in the same intent, as if to mock its non-poem status as a thing altogether too prosaic.

It is not a “manifesto”; rather, it is a “diatribe.” In the genres of my writing, a manifesto describes a complete depiction of how and why. A diatribe expresses emotion and does not bother; though, logic characterizes neither necessarily and may or may not be present.

I will present more examples of what I am talking about in other posts.