Paranoia @ MindSay 
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Using the right dosages of Cystospaz (Hyoscyamine), Urised and Lomotil (Atropine), a Scopolamine Patch, and the finger bone of a living person, you can bring a person back to life. And they won't even be a zombie; they'll just be their same old selves again. If you can't find a Scopolamine Patch, you can use the plant Datura, but it's illegal in some countries and states. All you have to do is crush and mix it all up together and pour it down the dead person's throat and ta da! It's a good way to bring back Grandma, don't you think? Haha!
I found this song by Modest Mouse called Dramamine. It's fucking beautiful. Brings back those memories of when I overdosed. You know, aside from the extreme nausea and the eventual death, it felt pretty damn good. It wouldn't have been so horrible if I hadn't been on anti-depressants and No-Doz. Oh well - at least I have a story to tell, an experience, an almost near-death experience at that. Lucky me!
I wish sometimes that I didn't have a home, that I lived on $10 a day, crawling through life one hotel and shit-job at a time, barely able to survive, pale skin, and bones making tents of flesh... seems like fun to me. Dunno why, just does. I am thankful though that I do have a home, clothes, food, etc. Living just the opposite is also appealing.
I realized today just how paranoid I really am. I was walking my dog around the block around 7 PM. Normally, no one else is out walking, but today I spotted some guy taking a stroll. I looked behind me and saw him go down the road that I just came out of. A couple feet later, I looked back and he was behind me again. I felt that today was my last day on earth. I knew he was going silently run up behind me and bash my dog in the skull and then slit my throat and run off. I quickened my pace. I looked back when I got the stop sign to find that he was still behind me. Only when I got to the next stop light did I turn around and see that he had disappeared. I guess I always assume the worst. Oh sure, I tried to reason with my imagination and tell myself that he, too, was just out for a brisk walk. I always feel like everyone is literally out to get me. I walk anywhere and feel like hundreds of hungry eyes are watching me. Fuck - I'm so damn paranoid. Next time I go for a walk, I'm carrying my fucking knife with me. If some asshole is going to try and slit my throat, I'm spilling his blood too.
Spilling blood reminds me of this passage that I read in a book. This guy had AIDS and said that if anyone tried to fuck with him, he'd slit his wrist and throw blood into the attackers eyes. Haha! That's one way to look at AIDS - as a potentially concealed weapon. Too bad the character never had the chance to use his infectious weapon.
I've been reading a lot lately and it seems like EVERYONE has a nickname. I want one too! Some of the characters nicknames were things like Ghost, Twig, Nothing, Spooky, etc. Fuck that's awesome. I want a cool nickname, not one that assholes at school gave me (Ellis Island).
DRAMAMINE
Travelling swallowing dramamine
Feeling spaced breathing out listerine
Id said what Id said that I'd tell ya
And that youd killed the better part of me
If you could just milk it for everything
I've said what I'd said and you know what I mean
But I still can't focus on anything
We kiss on the mouth but still cough down our sleeves
Travelling swallowing dramamine
Look at your face like you're killed in a dream
And you think youv'e figured out everything
I think I know my geometry pretty damn well
You say what you need so you'll get more
If you could just milk it for everything
I've said what I said and you know what I mean
But I can't still focus on anything
.This morning was going well... I got up in plenty of time to get to my internship at 9, showered, dressed... everything was going great until I went downstairs.
.The front door was wide open, rain pouring in.
.I immediately checked everything nearby that was of any value. Nothing had been touched. No wet footprints tracked into the house. Nothing seemed out of place at all. I checked the entire house--any hiding place I could think of--where someone could be hiding and found no one. But the door was wide open...
.It was difficult for me to admit to myself, but I must have forgotten to go back, close and lock up the bars and door when I got home from grocery shopping last night. Most likely, I left the door cracked and the wind blew it open later on. If this is the case, the door has been open since yesterday evening around 6 pm.
.This scares the hell out of me. If I can forget to lock up the door once, I can do it again. Next time, it won't just be the wind and rain that take a peak inside--it will be a thief or a murderer. Why am I so absent-minded?
After hitting my signal and sitting on the Tanglewood exit ramp, i drove toward my neighborhood listening to the "I'm So Hood" remix featuring Ludacris, another awesome rap I'd never heard. The Volvo was still there. I signaled and broke late to get into my neighborhood, a reflex I've developed when i think i'm being followed. Its a sensation i get more often than you would think. She turns onto Carraigebrook Court after me, but much later. I was thinking she may have slowed way down on the turn to make it less obvious, but she failed because i noticed.
At the top of my driveway I parked, so i could watch her while she glanced at my mailbox and rolled slowly by, making a right turn onto the cul-de-sac. The cul-de-sac onto which she turned only had five or 6 houses on it, and i sat at the top of my driveway watching, counting to twenty to the beat of the new Luda song on the radio.
It was silly, I had counted to twenty and nothing had happened. She obviously lived in that cul-de-sac, and i was being stupid and paranoid for thinking anything else.
I peeked in my garage to see if anyone was home. They weren't. I walked up my driveway twirling my keys, laughing at myself, and stretching my brain to remember the words of the great Ludacris,
when i saw a brunette woman drive a black Volvo past my house.
You're so vain, I'll bet you think this post is about you....
Well, just because this post isn't about you, (or is it?) doesn't mean people aren't talking about you. Hmm...
Should you know if your spouse is gay? That is the question brought up by Dina McGreevey, the ex-wife of former New Jersey governor, James McGreevey, who had to resign due to the threat of exposure of his homosexuality. One would think so. I would like to think that I'd be able to tell before I took that long walk down the plank of love, but is it actually possible for someone to lie that well for that long? The scary thing is, I think it is possible for some.
A lot more people lead "double lives" than one might imagine. Sometimes the secret is as big as an entire other family. I mean, that is one big secret! We all have our secrets. It's just that most of them aren't quite as devastating. Speaking of devastation, take Paula Rader, the wife of Dennis Rader, aka the BTK Killer. They were married in May of 1971, and had two children. One may ask, how could she have been married to him for so long, and not have known? It's a good question; however, statistics show that serial killers are usually married with children. Are these men brilliant liars, or are their wives just in complete denial?
Shouldn't one be able to tell if there spouse is hiding something so huge? Shouldn't they at least be able to sense that something is off? Again, I'd like to think that I would know something was going on. Do you think you'd be able to tell? I'm interested in your response.
Until Next Time,
Rose
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