The final summation for a month will be a moderate view because of a reservoir as regulator. But in a nutshell, this was foremost a month of drama and dissociation. I applaud how I have survived dual months in the absence of Olanzapine, even while the departure has caused a loss of volition, limpness in pleasure, and aberrance so irrevocable and full of confusion.
I also experienced a revolutionary transition from a culture of music, exercise and men’s magazines to the hegemony of my memoirs, unethical sexual release and an economical obsession. I am sure I have experienced other phenomena excluded from the final summation here, but I hope to revive a culture I used to thrive on.
Brother Sleeps Over At Family House
In concern for the final day, there was ambivalence inside me when I decided to sleep at half an hour after noon today. I had visions to leave the house and travel exhausted into Sydney. I had an impulse to use ten dollars in the red area, and was prepared to gamble on the unlikelihood there would be a female inside for me to ravish. Sleep rather stamped out the unsavory ideas, so I was thankful a rational need like sleep avoided a roll on calamitous aberrance.
I remember I was woken up to see my brother had driven over in the afternoon hours. I knew for sure my brother was here when I woke up at 7:50pm and assumed he was here to sleep, which is the case. I would hear my brother cough when I woke up. I know his insecurities in this house are abnormal and amplified because he explained them in our previous discussion. When he lies beside Lottie, he neither feels insecure, nor anxious, nor does he ever cough. So, I do believe people cough when insecure. My brother has obvious moral issues with this house.
Frustrated By Levi’s Constant Calls
I unlocked my mobile phone to see if anyone had contacted me, and sighed with cursed hands in the air when I saw Levi had written me another damn message. He wrote to me two days back to ask the usual. I avoided him, but obviously the harasser is frustrated.
He wrote yesterday, “I don’t know why you don’t want to hang out. I was happy just to get to know you as a mate. Can we start again? If you don’t like me as a mate then that’s cool.”
I know the real motives Levi now has. He never harassed me until I dropped a bomb and since then he is desperate to be friends when we never were. I know his intentions are to lure me in and convert me. I believe I may have been his friend if I never propositioned him, but his behavior now is so obvious. I wish this to be his final lamentable whimper so that I can be free of aberrance for month or for life.
Brisk Night Walk To Shops
I walked to the local shops at 9pm to reward half an hour of cleanup work in my memoirs.
I also intended to prepare for a final marathon on the perennial reservoir with a guarana drink, but all the shops were closed, which forced me to walk back home unfulfilled.
Play Minesweeper Game Versus Weston
I watched television for half an hour from 9:30pm. Despite reservations to sign into MSN Messenger, I did so. I knew I would see a face on there that would incur more pressure on my memoirs. I did see Weston, but rather than avoid him, I spoke.
Weston sure knows how to break the ice, as he invited me to an interactive game of Minesweeper, where the aim is to locate more flags than your opponent. I assumed I would lose because with veteran status, Weston knew all the rules. But the match was a thriller, which went down to the wire.
There are only so many flags to locate. Weston led initially, but I contended well. In the end it came down to three boxes on the upper right edge of the grid. Weston and I were equal on twenty-five flags. It was my turn to choose a box, so I chose the middle box, which revealed no reward.
Weston then had a choice of the upper or lower box. I drummed up the suspense. He laughed and took his time. He finally chose the upper box, which revealed no reward for him, and a victory to me. I won by one, and it was such a thriller.
This game of Minesweeper relaxed our reservations.
“How is everything with your girlfriend,” I asked Weston.
He meanwhile downloaded me pornographic pictures of female porn stars. I reciprocated and also offered him a pair of movies from my VHS video collection for one of his premium labels. I know Weston has dozens of porn movies and swaps with other people. I am desperate to reduce the pornography I have, so this would help.
In any case, a few minutes before I wrote in my memoirs I bade farewell to Weston.
An Inspiring Salman Rushdie Quote
Then I had a shower. Now I am here, where I retain the burden of bookmarks today, only to inherit the burden of bookmarks tomorrow.
I look forward to the drama of dysfunction next month if my brother relocates back to the family house. I also hope dissociation can nurse me away from the reclusion syndrome.
As a final word, I have to quote a wise line owed by Salman Rushdie. I watched an interview on television yesterday where a Muslim woman wrote a critical exposé on the Koran and Muslim culture, while she is a Muslim. This female interviewed Salman Rushdie as she wrote her book.
She asked him, “Why would you support a young Muslim writing a book that may invite into her life the kind of havoc and chaos and violence that has been visited upon yours?”
“Because a book is more important than life,” Salman Rushdie never hesitated to reply.
I was inspired by the words that followed, when Salman Rushdie supported his view to add, “Whenever a writer puts out a thought, it can be disagreed with vehemently, vigorously, even violently, but it cannot be unthought. That is the great permanent gift that the writer gives to the world. So even if your life is snuffed out because of a book, your idea can never be.”
On this, I feel justified for all the sacrifice to persevere, because I would be deprived and deprive many people if I capitulate to a recession to surrender to the ethers such personal hardships, when indeed people will one day benefit from my voice, which once in my memoirs, can never be unthought.
Diary Of A Mad Chaos is a daily diary written from March 1996 until today, of which individual books and book series have been created, namely “The Lost Years” an exploration of young, entwined love, the “Wubao In China (猎艳奇缘)” book series which provides an extensive comparative analysis of the cultural differences between Eastern and Western societies, and the book titled “Foreigner (华人)” an exploration of race relations in Australia.
