Another mass shooting and mass grieving and again it happened to Florida. And, as the tale of the life of the alleged shooter comes out, those that were not shot have already started acting with those students getting their shit on and taking their pain public.What grips me is the stories of the people who were shot, often while protecting others and often people they did not know. When a spree s
Articles from Harrangue Man
My new doc noticed the raised scar tissue on my left leg and said it was big and angry enough to not risk it and so off it went.The local injection was the hardest part—it was a prolonged "OWOWOWOWOWOWOW" reaction from me as the needle did its business. But then the lump was excised and evidence bagged for cancer, I was stitched up and off I went.It means no riding an exercise bike for at least a week and wearing a plastic bag—he recommended Woolies—taped below my knee in the shower to keep t
Every time my leg boil is attended to the black cat investigates. Last time was Valentines Day. She sits on my stomach as thewife squeezes ichor from the site.Maybe it's simple curiosity; cats are known for investigating things.
I endured the crafting of another Lovecraftian email—only one typo this time and I didn't re-send it when found because it almost looked right for the absence of a pair of commas—but then had to step away from the computer lest additional hurt land. So I found Game of Thrones, set it up on the laptop, then rode the bike to break the spell. I hate this shit; having to re-live again and again what happened to me, the horror I endured and the ongoing knock-on damage it cause.
I have to use a Clearwipe on the laptop screen because splatter from expectorant and other assorted disgust has sullied it to the point where I can't tell if that's punctuation or a bit of yuck.It's near nine-years-old, this machine, bought when still working and on a discount.
I just saw in the chicken pen there is a foam or plastic number nine or the letter g.I do not know how this alpha-numeracy came to be. It's the second weirdest thing found in the pen since that rubber Darth Vader head.
With thanks to The Beach BoysBecause I have PTSD, if I am also physically vulnerable then my anxiety level is up and my wounded brain interprets some sounds as threats.Being half-naked and facing away from the door in a metal shed makes me feel vulnerable. A bunch of metal on metal noises happened outside and I asked for who it was to go away because my brain treated then as scary noises. They did, but then they came back for more activity.
I was grappling with my past when a karmic moment dropped—their hate made me beautiful.I spent a childhood smothered in negativity from my diversion to the norm—that my mother caused—which caused on-set of depression at ten.It never left; it will never go.
I wasn't this error prone when working but I just did a typical re-read of an email and re-sent it because there was a mistake that needed to be corrected. It was the second re-send.I know why it is; it's because when I am drafting these emails it's traumatic and my upside-down brain is screaming at me to get it done as quick as possible.