An attempt at stream of consciousness.

I've read that you should try this with music. No citation needed. Maybe I didn't read it, maybe I made it up. So many stats seemed to be made up lately. That whole thing with Rick Santorum (who, if I ever look back this post I probably will have forgotten about). 


I just got a text from my girlfriend. 

Wait, Rick, right... So he made up some stats about the Netherland's killing what equates to about 5% of their population through euthanasia. Which is bullshit... Its okay to lie to republicans because that is what they have grown to expect. That is a pretty sad state of affairs when you think about it. What is the point of telling the truth in politics when you can just as easily get peoples attention by outrageous lies. It will only work when the truth is more outrageous than the lie... which probably wont be too long from now given the state of international affairs. Looking at you Iran. 

Anyways, where was I? I need a job. So about lying, the other way out of this death spiral would be if the media would report on the lies... but they can't. Many people, myself included for the longest time, thought of the media as regulatory body in a way. A chance to catch important people in lies... Not worth it, shareholders in these agencies have interests too and it seems like they don't care.

I realize that this 'blog' which is mainly for my own self... umm, engrandizement? Really leans on the political aspect inner dialog more than anything else. I'm really doing this to maybe work out some of the shit that has been clouding up my head lately. Maybe a list format will help?

1. I wish I had time to draw more, or maybe the money to buy a pad to mess around with photoshop on. I see the pencils I've bought downstairs on my coffee table and it makes me want to draw... Need inspiration.
2. Move out of my parents house. Jesus, I've gotten content here. Yeah, there is a lot of chicken served for dinner but damn, my mom is actually a really great cook. Having cooked mainly pasta or ravioli for dinner for a year, its really been a great change.
3. Job. Yeah I guess thats the next step. The girl (Sam) says that I put things off... I guess I do in this case, but not other cases really. I try to head things off at the pass so to speak.
4. I miss the structure of college. I don't know if I miss the classes, because they were pretty god damn easy, but I do miss the direction. I don't know where I want to be in 5 years, making more money, thats for sure. This list is starting to deteriorate. Should I let Sam read this shit or what...

She tells me I don't tell her enough about what I'm thinking. I think it would scare her. The other day I told her one of my wilder thoughts, which I'm pretty sure everything thinks anyways (not her), and she got kind of freaked out. 

Check phone. Its kind of like me looking over my shoulder. Resist urge to play video games. Look up spelling for urge, looks weird. 

So, my theory that my mind is the only conscious, living mind in the universe (Truman Show-esque), and that everyone else around is a robot who is designed to promote my afflictions for some type of gain... That is the one that weirded her out. She asked "Am I a robot", I said, I don't know a robot hasn't ever asked me that. I made her worried that she was a robot, that her mom was a robot. I convinced her maybe she was still a human with a real mind... Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? I'd like to think that that book is about what I'm thinking of. Ghost in the shell, god of the machine, deus ex machina. 

I've read elsewhere of this idea, probably on reddit. Not to be a hipster, but I would like to think that I thought of this before the idea had been planted somewhere in my head. 


I wonder if when you write like this, there are subliminal codes that get translated into text. Like every first letter of each sentence spells out a word, or a phrase. 


I.N.M.S.T.I.W.S.W.I.T.W.I.W.L.A.I.S.M.M.A.N.I.R.I.M.


In material with wall street journal without lasting summary man in real life. Thats what I got. 


Well, thats quite enough. If anyone asks, I'll pretend my therapist told me to do this this (like coloring). 


My therapist is my mom? Theres a scary thought.


I want to write a book. Should have started six months ago. 


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