CarlHoliday

Chapter 12 Ship Clock 262167 Moli 20-578p Eddy, Second & Third Days “Moli, wake up, I gotta piss,” Eddy said. “Bad?” “Well, sort of.” “What’s this?” “It’s like that in the morning.” “What do you do with it?” “If I don’t have to piss bad, I get rid of it.” “Do you mind if I get rid of it?” Moli asked as she pulled the covers back. “Looks nice.” “Uh, Moli, you shouldn’t do this.” “Oh, Eddy, it feels so nice, much better than Andresus’s.” “You did this for him?” “Yes, and I’m

Finally, I threw caution to the wind and ended up speaking with my psychiatrist this morning about how I'm feeling, which, basically, I'm not, feeling that is. It boils down to my choice. Do I want to wait and see if I get used to the new medication levels and hope for an easing of the mental dullness I'm experiencing? Or, do I want to go back to the way it was and be mentally unstable, but be more creative? The only serious problem with mental instability is the risk of suicide goes up significantly, not that I think I would do that, but having lived with this for as many years as I have, the risk of a spur of the moment action is always there. Right now one mile from me is a major cross-state highway, a major interstate railway, and a major river, all potential sources of demise. Death by semi, bus, locomotive, or drowning/hypothermia can be assured simply by getting in my car and driving down to the highway. The only risk to semi, bus, or locomotive is not actually doing enough damage to cause death, but doing enough damage to cause irreparable harm and ending up in a nursing home with a tube down my nose providing nourishment and diapers collecting bodily wastes. Drowning/hypothermia is fairly certain, except I have a phobia about water, especially water that is deep and scary. I've decided to go back and tackle Remembering Tim. I have thirteen chapters of revised material and seven chapters of old material that doesn't meld at the junction so I'll have to figure out a way to splice them together. I know it will be easier to do if I go back on my meds, but do I want to do that? I need to have a resolution on Tim. There are a lot of things that can and should be done to bring this story to fruition. Like Schticky and Pastel Cowboy, Tim is a favorite story and comes from a period when I believe I was a my peak of creative abilities. Of course, if I do finish Tim, then I'll probably have to go and look at Pastel Cowboy. Plus, I have the new book of the Hercules III series to work on and that needs to be done, too. Or, I can just forget the whole mess and wait for my meds to stabilize. I just don't know anymore. I'm just tired of being bipolar, it's a drag on my life and it can be dangerous to my health.

Over the past few days I went back to one of my stories, A Very Schticky Thing To Do, to see if there were any things that needed to be changed and/or clarified, plus find those little typos that always seem to sneak through. It was a fun journey reading through a story that I thoroughly enjoyed writing. When I first went to it I noticed that I left it as on hold. I couldn't remember why that was so. There was only one thing to do about it and that was to give a good read. The chuckles are still there especially the "wilson". I added a note at the end of Chapter 2 that I hope explains what a wilson is. I didn't find any major changes that needed to be made. Plus, although there is room for more chapters, the spark that drove the story has gone out; therefore, the story ends at a logical point at Chapter 19. I suppose some would say I should attempt to go further, but that would require more mental work than I'm currently capable of doing. I'm still working on chapter 4 of the new book, but as I've said before, it's going slow, which probably explains why I've started going through my old stories. My mental state is still very iffy. I know it's just the change in dosage, but it's still troubling having this dulled feeling in my head. I hope I can get used to the new med level as the alternative would be just giving up on creative writing for how long I do not wish to contemplate.

Another terrific chapter. The developing relationship with Steve was well written and whether it goes on for weeks or months it will be good for Toph. Interesting bit about Austin's painting, but maybe Toph will go back to it to at least put enough more into it call it finished. Gary, well, I think Gary has a pretty good idea who Toph is if he doesn't actually know who he is. What will Toph do if he finds out Gary's last name is England? Will he run away, again. It's was also nice to see Toph having a little problem with life in general. How many of us have been in the position of having to decide whether to get a new car or to keep repairing the one we have? Look forward to reading Chapter 6.

Another beautiful chapter adding more dimensions to Toph. He certainly seems to be enjoying being visible. I have to agree with Graeme about Gary. I got the impression right off he was Toph's mother's new boss. There just seemed something about him that said, "Hey! Look at me, I know your mother." The note from Niles was an interesting addition. Personally, I'd like to see those two men to get together. And, then, the wonderful cliff-hanger of Gary's reaction to Toph's departure to see Steve. I definitely have a feeling something is going to happen there, but, please, delay the inevitable as long as you can. Make Toph suffer from Gary's increasing interest and soft flirting.

Once again another beautiful addition to Toph's story. The advice to Gary was terrific and I think went a long way in furthering their relationship. Getting to know Big Joe was good, as was discussing the painting with Naomi. But, who is Niles? Kissed Toph? What's with that? And, then, dinner by Joanne and coming out to the three of them. It seems to be risky to Toph to be suddenly visible, especially with his possible relationship with Gary who still remains somewhat of a mystery. Good chapter and look forward to reading the next one.

Very touching. ... I was 22 when my father died of cancer. The last time I saw him he didn't tell me he was dying. At the time of his death I was in the USAF at a school in Louisiana and was woken in the night to be told my father was dead. I went home on a 30-day emergency leave not knowing the reason of his death. My mother was devastated, but I couldn't understand why. I thought it had been sudden, but within a few days I found out the why and how and couldn't see how my mother, who had been there at his death, could be totally broken down. My last memory of my father was one of the few father-son chats we ever had. He wasn't a personable father. He always seemed to hold me off at arms length, but on that day he told me that one of his fishing buddies, who owned a HVAC company, said he could get me into the steamfitter's union when I graduated from high school. My father told him I probably wouldn't be interested in doing that kind of work. He didn't even discuss it with me. He just assumed I wouldn't want to make big bucks doing dirty work. Of course, looking back it was probably for the best, but when he told me that it simply reinforced my opinion that he wasn't the greatest father who ever lived. So people have fond memories of their fathers. Some don't. Unfortunately, I belong to the latter group. My only hope is that I've been a good father to my son.

I almost called the VA hospital emergency room today, but my son talked me out of it because he definitely wasn't in any mood to take me down to Seattle. I just wanted to talk to the on-call psychiatrist about how I've been feeling. You know, just talk to someone. If I feel bad again tomorrow morning, I will call, just to talk if he/she will go along with it. I'm not bad enough to call the suicide hot line, but sometimes I need to talk to someone and there's only so much Rambo is willing to listen to. My son tries, but even he doesn't understand what I'm going through. Have not written anything on Chapter 4 of The Children of Eden today. No, I do not have a block. I do have something to write, I'm just not doing that. Maybe tomorrow. Did something new today. Created a new blog on Google Blogger (old Blogspot) to journal my experiences with Type 1 Bipolar Disorder. It's called: Melancholia: Life with Type 1 Bipolar Disorder. If you're interested, it can be accessed at: http://melancholiatypeibipolar.blogspot.com/. Started reading a story by skinnydragon: Toph's Empty Year. I'm reviewing the chapters, too. Started posting comments on the forums and got access to The Pit. Next, I'll probably go on Chat. It's a new life.

Toph is certainly having trouble being invisible in his new home. And, Gary, what is with Gary? Anders seems to be the invisible one here, but there is definitely something about Gary's interest in Toph. Is Gary just one of those kind of guys who's extra friendly, just trying so hard to get to know Toph that it comes across as flirting? Or, is he actually putting the moves on the young man? Keep the mystery going SkinnyD because you certainly got my interest in following this. Whoosh! I'm invisible, again. . . .

Thanks for the review. Normally, I probably wouldn't have written a story such as this, but when I was homeless in Dallas, TX, back in 2011, I was in a Salvation Army shelter and had to watch mental health videos. One of them was about a cutter. And, there was Dusty Springfield, who was also a cutter.

Thanks for the review. I haven't read this story for a long time. Although it say it was published in January 2011, it was written many years before that, but was inadvertently dropped from the system when an upgrade occurred and I was out of touch of GA due to a personal situation. In many ways, Dave and Jerry are composites of myself. My fear of heights is based on my fear of jumping.

Thanks for the review. Yes, I think I unconsciously try not to please my readers, which goes a long way to explaining why I don't have that much of an audience. Eh, I write stories I enjoy writing, and it's nice that you like Josh's Blog so far.

A very likable story with a very likable protagonist. I find it interesting the interest in art is only hinted at as if it's just a hobby or is it something that will be developed later, whichever it is it gives a certain expectation to the story. Also, the way Toph is interested in escaping from privilege to live a life outside that life can lead in so many different directions. I look forward to following Toph as he moves on in life.

Damn! So far it's only snowed for two hours this winter and we're in the mountains. All around us, snow on the mountains, but down in the valley? No! Nada! Stupid El Nino!

Strange how things work out sometimes. When I was working on Chapter 7 of my new book I had to get into the Periodic Table and there were those four new elements. At the time I remembered reading an article somewhere about one of them being discovered before the other three and how it was given the temporary name Ununoctium. Personally, I think Ununoctium is a really neat name for an element. An even better name would be Lastium with the symbol Ls, since La is already taken.

Boys don't draw hearts smacks of boys don't cry. I don't know why gender roles have to be so structured. In my life I've worked for men and women and can say it doesn't matter which sex they were because you get good and bad bosses independent of what sex they are. If I watch a sad or highly emotional movie, I cry, can't help it. On my left shoulder I have a lizard with an ankh on its head and on my right shoulder I have a pink gardenia floating in a pool of water. (My next tat will be a yellow rose under the gardenia.)

Despite having dulled thought processes probably due to the increased dosage of risperidone, life seems to be getting along. I have noticed it's harder to write. The motivation just doesn't seem to be the same as it was. I've started Chapter 4 of the new Hercules III book, but it's going slow. Chapter 3 was relatively easy, so I can only say that it must be the dulling effects I'm getting from the combination of the increased risperidone acting on the divalproex (mood stabilizer). An increase in risperidone will increase the amount of divalproex in the blood, which will dull the senses. I used to take 3,000 mg of divalproex and 1 mg of risperidone, but I couldn't write very well, so I convinced my old shrink to lessen the dosage of the divalproex to 2,000 mg. That decrease significantly improved my creative abilities. So, what do I do with this? Do I go for mood stability and decreased creative ability or back to mood instability and increased creative ability? I don't know right now. In a way I kind of like having this new to structure in my life. Other than an update on Facebook and this blog entry, I haven't written anything today. Just listening to music and diddling on the computer. I did get in my required 30 minutes of practice on the guitar, which is the one very important thing for me to do everyday. I'm just starting out so it's important to establish good practice habits early on. I think I'll be able to use that need to practice to help reinforce this structured life I'm experiencing. Though, it would be nice to have a resolution, but I'll have to wait to see the shrink in March before any changes can be made. Maybe she'll come up with something that I can take that will give me stability without dulling thought processes, making me tired all the time, and just generally f___ing me up, except for the guitar practice, that is.

Last week the shrink dropped my antidepressant and doubled the dosage of my antipsychotic. And, then, the world as I knew it began to change. I'm sure I'll eventually get used to the extra mg of risperidone, but right now I've experienced an incredible increase in weight, increased tiredness, decreased libido, and to top off everything else Microsoft ended the 30-day restriction I was experiencing with my account due to attempting to change my password, thereby enabling me to finally use my new laptop. Normally, there wouldn't have been much of a problem with changing PCs. Just create a bunch of CDs with documents and read them onto the new PC. Except, the CD drive on the old was kaput. So, having Windows 10, I had the great idea of transferring all the documents, music, and pictures up to the cloud and then moving them back down to the new PC, but, not to be, OneDrive wouldn't work on my old PC, just another nail in the coffin. Light bulb came on and one day we were down in Monroe and stopped in Staples where I asked their techie if there was a way to move all my stuff from my old PC to the new without being able to use a CD drive or use OneDrive. He took out a hammer and pulled the nail out of the coffin: "Oh, sure, we can do that for you!" When Microsoft dropped the restriction I got the new one set up and then we drove back down to Monroe and dropped off the PCs at Staples. Early on in my experience with all things computer it is always best to go to someone who knows what they're doing to get it done right. Unfortunately, the techie who worked on my PCs had a hammer and a nail. Oh, he transferred my files, I had no problem with that, but when I went into picked up the PCs he cranked up the new PC to show me what a good job he did. Damned fool drove that nail straight into the coffin. The Documents, Music, and Pictures folders were empty! He checked, yes, the files had been moved. Where, I ask? Well, let's see. Click, click, click, click, click. See, right here. They were buried so deep in the new PC that accessing them would've been near impossible. Can you fix this? Uh, sure, we can move them from there to where they need to be, shouldn't take any time at all. So, he set up a copy process to move the files. Luckily for me, but unlucky for him there was a time meter indicating the time left on the move. It was a half an hour to closing, I hadn't had dinner, I was cranky from an extra mg of risperidone, and the time left said 3 hours, 33 minutes, and counting down. Needless to say, I was pissed and went home. Well, not directly, we stopped in Sultan at Ixtapa for dinner. I had a margarita to calm my nerves. Would've preferred a double shot of Laphroaig, but I'm no longer that kind of drinking man. Today, I've got the computer back, I have a new cellphone (dumb variety), a tablet (free benie from long relationship with Verizon), my repaired guitar (broke back in August) to get back to learning how to use, Word 2016 to get used to using (from what I can see so far Microsoft has done another upgrade F**K UP), and the pleasure of creating new playlists on Groove. I do hope my mood stabilizer is going to be able to handle the inevitable mood swings I know I'm going to encounter.

Chapter 11 Ship Clock 262167 Moli 20-578p Eddy, First Day “Hi, Moli, have you been here long?” Gene asked as he walked up to the log and sat down. “No, I just got here a few minutes ago.” “How did you get away?” “I took a break; I’ve been working since six.” “Oh, that’s early. I have to be back in a couple of hours because I’m supposed to start studying the first module on farm accounting.” “Did you get a good grade on farm economics?” “I got a seven point five; I was hoping for a n

Chapter 10 Ship Clock 262143 Willamina (Willy) 91-561b The Mutant “I was talking to Sister today,” Willy said. As usual, they were sitting on Lee’s bed, naked; and, as usual, Willy’s arm was across Lee’s shoulders. They were sixteen and a hundred forty years away from leaving the orphanage when they were eighteen. “What about? Are you having trouble with your lessons, again? You seem to be doing good in class or is it the lessons on the module that are giving you problems, again.” “No, I’m

Chapter 9 Ship Clock 262080 Abner (Abe) 34-793k The Machos, Part 2 A year later, it was time for the annual commune celebration held at Commune Center. Everyone at the commune was expected: adults, children, and residents of the dormitories. It was the one time of year when farming was put aside for a day so Eden Commune could acknowledge another good year of harvests. Peter, Ben, Dorcas, Charity, and Roger couldn’t stop talking about it. All looked forward to a fun day away from the far

Well, The G. M. Os. has finally come to an end. 26 chapters, a little over 179,000 words. Quite a project. Now all that is waiting is the publishing. Chapter 8 went up today. Chapter 9 is out for proofreading. Frankly, I’m very happy with the story. It was a good mental exercise and kept me sane for two months. Yesterday had a bit of a letdown and almost had to call the suicide hotline. Haven’t had that feeling in over five years, but I know it’s always there. Good thing I’m going to see the psychiatrist on Tuesday because the way I’m feeling at this moment, I just might have to make that call. Maybe just to have someone to talk to. Sometimes, that’s all it takes. That other story I thought I was going to do died. There’s nothing to resurrect. So, maybe a sequel to The G. M. Os. might be just what this suicidal writer needs. Strange how that works. You take the medicine, but those thoughts are always there. Scary.

Chapter 8 Ship Clock 262079 April 45-555f The Machos, Part 1 “April? I just received a message from the bots,” Megan said when she walked into her partner’s office. They lived on the twentieth floor of a thirty story building. It was a nice apartment and had a nice view of the park, but it was getting too small for them or that was what April kept saying. Megan figured it was because April was getting so rich. April said they needed a townhouse out in one of those walled communities past

The G. M. Os. has come down to the last chapter. The cycle of the story has come around to a point close to the beginning as far as relationships go. All I have to do now is write it. No, there is no block. It’s just a matter of tidying up and giving any possible continuation of the story a jumping off point. My dreams last night were very troubling. There were images from my childhood and family and friends. The scenes were very different, but they had a familiarity to them that was unsettling. Then this morning when I took Rambo out for his first in the morning potty trip (it seems to be my job to take him out, as Daddy stays in bed until Rambo comes back in), there was a brisk wind coming down from the Cascades and the sound of it swishing through our two fir trees reminded me of the fir tree that used to be in the backyard of the house where I grew up. It was a remembrance of things past and I think that is what I’m beginning to feel about Chapter 25. I have a character who entered the story at year one of age five (in The G.M.Os. that would equal fourteen years old) and now he is age 20. In the previous chapter (24) he had to deal with a family death and the opportunity of a life time. Now, he is doing what he never dreamed he would do in his childhood as he was eclipsed in abilities by his twin sister, but he will be given a chance to love another man, a chance to adopt, and a chance to live his life to the fullest. Unfortunately, sometimes I don’t let my characters have happy lives. I give them adversity and a real risk of untimely death. I think a lot of that comes from my own life, which in remembrance is something that was not happy at all. Though, and my cousin keeps stressing this, there were happy times. When you’re raised in shit sometimes you don’t recognize the smell until much later. Of course, it didn’t help that I was crazier than a loon and queerier than a three dollar bill. So, that’s where I am now. I have a boy who in an earlier chapter (18) was very endearing, a beautiful little boy who had a problem. Well, he had two problems, one serious, one not so serious. Now, everything is peachy keen, but is it? We’ll just have to see. He’s such a nice character, has all the attributes of a character who deserves the best storyline, but, well there is always a but. We’ll just have to see how it turns out. If does turn sour, maybe I won’t let him die, but give him life while the world around him crumbles into dust. That would give him another chapter; or, just another book. Have to see. In the meantime, Rambo wants to go out and run around a bit. Then I’ll take a little nap or at least rest my eyes. They’ve been giving me a bit of trouble lately.

Chapter 7 Ship Clock 262036 Eugenus (Gene) 54-721c You Are Not Dumb “Hi, Moli, what are you doing out here?” Gene asked as he sat down on the log next to his best friend. She said they were boyfriend-girlfriend, but Gene didn’t want to go that far. They were only twelve; he felt they were too young to have that kind of relationship. “Oh, I don’t know, I just got away for a couple hours. I was in the greenhouse working on some apricot root stock and got bored. I asked the bot supervisor a