To Scene

The word, scene, is not a verb.  With drugs, everything is different.  Words and pictures in your head is about all the thinking you can do.  However, no one else knows what you are thinking.  I am a strict constructionist.  That is, I believe that thoughts are real.  The world is not just behavior.  There is an unseen, unknowable,  inner world of the mind.  It is strict because I would need to include it in a reproduction of reality.  Reality is incomplete without it.

Is that important?  Well, yes and no.  If I have a point to make, and I do not make it very well, I feel a keen disappointment when I read it, because of the raison d’etre; that’s the reason for being.  The thing doing the being is the blog.  If it doesn’t have any benefit, it is just taking up time and effort; no one’s more than mine.  That French phrase, common in English, also leads us to substitute the word living for being, perhaps due to the other phrase, lebensraum.  That one means, “living room”, but it isn’t the room in your house.  It’s Alsace-Lorraine.

My meaning for something not actually defined in any common language, etcetera, rather than smoothly appearing in the flow, must ride along unacknowledged or else wrench apart the sense of anything under discussion.  I barely have control of what I say even with other speakers completely out of the picture.  Perhaps I am schizophrenic.

I do not want to miss it, so, perhaps I am a paranoid schizophrenic.  I certainly have been so diagnosed.  That was 1970, the same year as Earth Day, EPA, OSHA, and DEA came about.  We’re getting diminishing returns.  HA HA DISREGARD THAT I SUCK COCKS

Now, the first thing I said was not, “I saw it”, or even, “I seen it”.  It was the further and unforgivable contagion inherent in, “I scene it”.  “I seen it”, is sufficient cause to take a child outside and shoot it, should he butcher English in that manner.  One bad apple spoils the whole barrel.

COME IN!!!

One similarity endemic to methamphetamine intoxication is, “a me.”  There’s no a you.  There’s just you, and if I shoot you, I doubt some other you will ever make its existence known.  The sole target is named, “you”.  I am not going to waste lead.  And, if you listen to the speech you can hear it once in a while:

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Ever hear of Matt Damon?  He was in love with a me.”

“That’s a little sketchy.”

I mean, I can hear it, but, whether she said it or I am just hearing things that aren’t there, I cannot be sure.  That hardly matters.  Whether she said Matt Damon, if it’s about a Matt Damon, or if that is the Matt Damon, hardly matters.  It would have to be the compensatory mechanism whereby the younger and fuck-worthy Matthew J. Damon was involved before he became famous and we got AIDS such that he is rich and therefore a “catch”, yet has no AIDS, because we caught it after we fucked him.  MD is just a name being used in the example.  What matters is that in my head, the nature of these words, with the extra syllable, triggered an avalanche of meaning from decoupling reality from circumstance.  It’s not—easy.  Is it useful?  Well, if you mean “Is it ever useful?”, the answer’s yes, because of granularity.  Although the false and schizophrenic version of reality is unreliable, it can become stable.  To do that it must be grandiose.  To be over-the-top, grandiose, implies that it is a picture with enough data points to resolve into details, and these cliches are the details, encountered with enough frequency to stay reinforced.  These are the only ones, mapped against standard English.  “Scene” and “seen” sound the same, so “scene” is an insidious carrier of paranoid ideation, or whatever it is.  “A me” is a definite slip, obvious to all listeners.

They will give you backtalk, of course:

“Ah, no, nice try, but, the tape slipped and there was a blip recorded.  She never said that.”

Riiiight.  But, this was before video games swamped out television.  This was in the year 1985 as an era, because ‘5’ is a unit of counting years.  The Dating Game was on.  She was on that.  She came from Texas.  She had a palmetto on her blouse.  Now, ’85, ’90 (cellular phones), ’95, ’00, ’05, ’10, …these—somewhere in here you could buy lives and play and lose them on machines.  This currency is just plastic.  There exists a separate system of life and death, bonaroo because it is so permanent.

The brain processing the events going on in and out of the field of view, in and out of the well of truth, in and out of survival and passion, in and out of joints, this thing might work best under its hat, in the shade.  Oh, it might work best sober, I mean.  Then, when it gets high it seems to bend the very world.  It also expands and in the cracks new words come out.  I don’t know if they work.  They spring out fully formed.  That doesn’t seem right.  One of them was “timal”.  You have heard of “spatial”.  Well?

There’s no lower granularity for time.  If it’s a timal, it operates at all scales.  Methamphetamine operates at all scales.  It’s only for sale because it enhances the development of psychosis.  It is part of the addictive power of it.  The manufacture could theoretically be at the one-molecule scale.  That’s its lowest granularity.  Any more grainy and it’s gone, becoming silica sand.  Where the false world meets the real world is within thoughts with logical strings, stringing you along.  People string you along, too.  I may be stringing you along, but I am not profiting.  I’m not schizophrenic, and that’s good.  We can’t write.  If you are strung along, you are tethered out there alone, like a spaceman.

I am cutting you loose.  Wherever the circuit is, anyway, that’s all the writing I should do, before my personal life collapses around me as a result.  I stopped caring.  I just want to make money.

Oh, I should save a few lives.  The first step in a decontamination corridor is the equipment drop.  The glove and boot wash is not first, but comes before tape removal, of course.  There are four, but I turned the test in.

“Intrinsically safe” as a description of a material, doesn’t mean you do not need training to use it, one of the answers was that.  It means you can use it in a flammable atmosphere.

I am going to go ahead and accuse the administrative controls for meth lab cleanups of being too stringent.  Go ahead and walk into an atmosphere of PCB-laden asbestos particles to get paid that kind of money.  Use the blue stuff, crocodylite.  I know I am not going to get assistance to don and doff a Hazmat suit just to cook some speed.  You “firefighters” are corrupt and so stupid you just follow orders when you have every indication it is going to kill you.  It’s Farenheit 451!.  You set fires, you fucking bastards.  You dirty rats!

1204

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