040124 qotw for a “you teach us” cw week: “However, at some point … I began to wonder if he really knew what he was talking about any better than anybody else, or if what he knew better than anybody else was how to talk about it. The two things are easily confused.” – U K Le Guin, “All Happy Families” rec. the whole book in class somewhere: *the wave in the mind:* Talks and Essays on the Writer, the Reader, and the Imagination What if everyone around you started acting like you stink, but as far as you knew you didn’t 040224 We come up with a solution (out of infinite potential solutions?) to a problem… the solution that sticks then affects how we think about the nature of the problem or of future problems or problems in general It got hard to keep up with the eating/weight “lifestyle” because, apart from all the scientific (?) “oh, your body does this, your brain does this, hormones, metabolism” stuff, I got bored with the novelty of a flat stomach. Like, OK, I experienced that—it’s like buying a new lens and feeling like the possibilities of photography have opened up anew! For about a week and a half. Then, you reluctantly realize that your “life” didn’t materially change—you’re still getting old, you’re still lonely, still afraid of losing your job, the election, blah blah blah, still zapping yourself with distractions so rapidly you can’t even count the times you do something without thinking OK that’s not entirely fair. You may have made some “progress” toward some kind of “experience” or “wisdom” or “maturity,” but again, so what? Once the thrill gets normalized, then what? Eat, drink, smoke, tomorrow we die, etc etc. Talk grandiose words about why YOU being akratic is poetic, while for some other loser on the bus it’s just “the human condition.” The cockroach condition. The frazzled chimp condition. The cold hard martian pebble condition. Fucks the difference. You’re either going to get pudgy again or you’re not; ultimately, nobody cares. And that’s freedom, yay. (all other things being equal though, i’d rather face all the existential shit with a flat stomach than with a load of marshmallow fluff on every edge of what’s left of my body, so, yeah, it does make a difference actually … DON’T GIVE UP) ## SOME THOTS ON THC WDRAWL: Day 1 is just kinda sleepy/dopey. Day 2 is its own special kind of low-key hell. Day 3 is maybe kind of OK if you haven’t been drinking too much to get good sleep; you may be a little verbally weird. Day 4 you’re pretty much feeling like yourself, mostly. A bit empty and sad. Not sure if the last few days’ sleep-lack wretchedness is coincidental, or if withdrawal’s been a part of its incidence all along. 🤔 Day 5 you think you’re “normal” and then the punishing sadness/ the sighing/ the deep dissatisfaction/ you are reminded that this isn’t about one “chemical” or “drug;” it’s about your “life” — and what are you going to do about it? Eat? Shop? Walk? Run? Go back to the warm embrace of the “chemical” or the “drug?” Ultimately, it probably doesn’t matter. Unless it does. If you’re bored and enervated enough, the smallest, most ordinary choices can become profound. Run instead of walk for a block. Go over the concrete bollocks in front of marshall high instead of walking beside them like a normal person. Wear only a shirt and vest in the cold. Don’t read everything on your phone brainlessly. Or even brainfully. Remember things instead of having a means by which to “write them down” — or just forget more things. Refuse to compromise with the phone when it won’t let you type a simple phrase without bottomless frustration. Just—don’t do it anymore. Just don’t do it. Fuck it. Nobody fucking cares if you miss out on something. When everything is signal, everything is noise. When everyone is strapped, it’s the same as if no one is—only the mortality rate is higher. There’s garbage in the streets, did you ever think about that? People would run you down in the street before they would drive more carefully as a matter of habit. Ubiquity is toxic. Toxicity is ubiquitous. Give up so you can become successful at something. Admit you’re human. Fuck it. Why not. It’s good to feel hunger. It’s good. It’s wretched. It’s horrible. It’s bad. It’s the worst. Go back outside because you have a house to come back to. Be kind to everyone on the bus if you can, even the schizophrenic ones and the high as a fucking kite ones. Even the one that said, “You can’t talk like a baby on here. You got to talk like a— like a *man* up in this bitch!” Thank him for his advice. Thank the bus driver for his service. Know when to speak up. Know when to get off. Dawn comes to the southeast corner of your room and sticks there, courtesy of a 1980s fluoresent bulb in a weird lamp you found at Goodwill. Get that weird shit you can’t get at Walmart. Get it while you can. Someone on the puke-inducing constant fart that the internet has become said for a luxurious room, get rid of something instead of adding something. The same applies to your brain, obviously. Everything is so obvious these days. Except the obvious stuff. Oh give me a fucking break. Brush your teeth. Remind libby to go over by karen’s and get those pizzas. Fix your roof. Pray. These are my prayers. Don’t you see? Don’t you? On Day 6, please wake up thinking about how {sorrow} is an essential part of this nutrtitious breakfast, aka your day. If it’s too rich in the mix, there are some positions you can take, movements you can make to adjust that, other than nuking it to oblivion and sitting there smiling in ignorant bliss and then starting this whole dreadful cycle all over again. {out of sorrow’s doleful piñata tumble shame, regret, fatigue, ennui, grief; a virtual potpourri of threnodious plangencies} (There are variations though. For example, if you’re doing some other things right, Day 2 might actually not be that bad. Or if the build-up to the cut-off wasn’t so saturated. Moderation—yep, it’s still a thing.) - makes me way more likely to beast out - makes it harder to remember words - makes me say dumb shit - makes it harder to read and write - makes me hang up and obsess over “profound” details instead of moving on to the next thought or experience (“creativity” paradox) - makes me dissociate from work - disrupts sleep and dreams - might be contributing to gynecomastia > Perhaps a simpler, more colloquial definition of cannabis addiction would be more helpful in assessing your use of cannabis: persistent use despite negative consequences. If your cannabis use is harming your health, disrupting your relationships, or interfering with your job performance, it is likely time to quit or cut down drastically, and consult your doctor. As part of this process, you may need to get support or treatment if you experience uncomfortable withdrawal symptoms, which may make it significantly harder to stop using. - taper - exercise - meditate - antidepressants or sleep aids or synthetics (aka other drugs) - “deflect irritabilty” - “relax” - hydrate > By your second week […] restlessness, boredom, and depression. > By weeks three and four, the most pronounced symptoms are sleep disturbances, depression and anxiety, and mental clouding, or brain fog. “You may have wondered if you would ever feel normal again.” > If you are still feeling down, hopeless, and fatigued after one month, you may be experiencing something more serious. [CBD](https://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/cannabidiol-cbd-what-we-know-and-what-we-dont-2018082414476)?