chronic pain

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“Don’t ask for favors. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t axe me why.”

I’m going to try to keep this brief today.  I had a particularly bad night’s sleep, even for me, and I am in a significant amount of pain even after taking what I have for it (without massively overdosing).  Thankfully‒so far‒my thumbs aren’t acting up too much as I write this.

It certainly does get old, this chronic pain bit.  I don’t know if anyone out there is considering trying it as a way of being, but I can tell you that, after more than twenty years, I’ve decided it’s not a good lifestyle choice.  So please, if you’re considering it, then reconsider.

I know, I know, no one‒as far as I’m aware‒chooses to have chronic pain, not as such, anyway.  I suppose one might say that anyone who becomes a professional football player (American football, I mean, though all competitive sports have at least some tendency in the same direction) is in a sense choosing a life of chronic pain.

But at least there are compensations, and one receives them more or less up front.  The bill, however, almost inevitably comes due for those who play any kind of serious competitive sports.  Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad they do what they do.  I enjoy watching football, and to a lesser degree several other sports.  But even golf (which I also enjoy watching the pros play) gives its practitioners accumulated damage.

Is there any sport that does not exact a toll on those who take part in it seriously?  I don’t know.  Maybe free solo rock climbing doesn’t tend to give people quite the same kind of chronic, post-high-impact injury problems, because high impacts in that sport tend to be fatal.  Other than those, though, it appears to be a practice associated with great care and deliberation.  There is little to no tackling involved (they don’t even use other kinds of tackle, thus the “free solo” part).

I don’t know why I’m going into such things.  I was just speaking tongue in cheek about the idea of people actually choosing to have chronic pain, which was an absurd notion.  Then I realized that, in a way, people often do choose things that will almost inescapably lead to chronic pain.  But, of course, they aren’t consciously choosing the pain, and many of them probably don’t seriously think it’s something that can happen to them, not when they’re young and feel unstoppable.

Then, by the time they’ve come to recognize their own susceptibility, their own mortality and morbidity, it’s too late.

I suspect that chronic pain was much less common for our ancestors, at least if you go back far enough.  This is not because they were hardier or healthier than we are necessarily, though they probably had less occasion to be indolent.  But we are exposed to injuries they might not have been‒even minor traffic accidents can cause damage that accumulates and persists‒and also, we survive many things that would simply have killed them, thanks to modern science and technology.

Just because we survive them doesn’t mean they are harmless, though.  As Billy Joel sang, “You are still the victim of the accidents you leave.”  That which does not kill you can still leave damage; it does not necessarily make you stronger, any more than syphilis made Nietzsche healthier.

On that cheery note, I think I will wrap up this week and put it in the fridge for leftovers, where it will eventually go bad and will have to be thrown out anyway.  I know, that particular metaphor doesn’t really make sense.  I didn’t have anything in mind when I wrote it, I was just following the automatic thought that was initiated by the words “wrap up”.  If any of you have a good potential meaning for the metaphor that I just frivolously threw out there, please, feel free to share it with us.

Also, please have a good day and a good weekend if you can.

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“Vast forms that move fantastically to a discordant melody”

There may come a week when I will start the work week of blog posts off without mentioning that the day is Monday.  But it is not this week.

And yes, indeed, it is now Monday, the beginning of another “traditional” work week, and I am writing my first blog post of the week, and I have no idea what I’m going to write other than that I knew I would almost certainly mention the fact that it is Monday.  For future reference, this particular Monday is September 8, 2025 (AD or CE) and is thus the second Monday in September.  Isn’t that all just riveting information?

Well, it’s not much, but it may very well be the best I have for you—and it may not even get this good again for the rest of the post.  Then again, maybe I’ll come up with something brilliant or at least amusing before the end of the next several hundred words.  And that will have made it all worthwhile, you wagering your precious, irreplaceable time on this blog post being interesting, let alone informative.  I’d advise against you wagering a lot of money on it, but you do you, as they say nowadays*.

What else should I talk** about now?  I don’t really know.  I don’t think I have anything interesting to say.  Nothing new or interesting has happened in my life, nor would any such thing be expected to happen.  I was in too much pain even to go for much of a walk on either Saturday or Sunday—just a half-mile stroll to the local convenience store.

I’ve tried mainly to rest and watch interesting and occasionally even educational videos on YouTube, and to read a little bit here and there.  On Sunday afternoon I started watching a bit of football (after I did my laundry), but I lost interest in that pretty quickly.  Really, the only good thing about this weekend, other than getting some rest, was that I had a nice phone conversation with my sister.

Of course, there are certainly things going on in the nation and in the world that could be discussed, but there are plenty of other people discussing those things, and they tend to stress me out too much; it’s sometimes hard to accept the flagrant stupidity of so many members of the human race.  But then I recall that they are all just naked house apes, only a tiny fraction of whom ever truly rise above their broad primate natures, bringing other apes along for the ride.

But, hey, being called a primate is not an insult (and if it is, too bad for you, because odds are you are one).  They’re some of the smartest creatures on this planet.  They also have the capacity to work together in immense and intricate ways in order to survive and thrive, to help each other, to defend each other against the elements and predators and all sorts of other things.

On the other hand, they can also be a#sholes sometimes.  Humans have the disadvantage that their relative competence gives them the power to do great damage when they’re being as#holes—often largely to themselves,  both personally and collectively.  It’s certainly rare when someone does damage that doesn’t at least partly damage them, though the damage may be of a sort that they disdain, not knowing how it will impair them in the future, and possibly—often—not even recognizing, when it becomes clear that the damage has consequences, that it is of their own making.

What the hell am I talking about?  I’m not thinking of any specific cases or examples here, just in case you were wondering if I was.  I’m actually thinking of this in an abstract, almost mathematical way:  a formula, the characteristics of which one can see even when there are multiple unknowns.  It’s hard to say how generalizable the formula might be, and of course details would remain unknown until the thing is actually worked out.  Nevertheless, patterns can be seen ahead of time to some degree.

Jeez Louise, I’m kind of all over the place and still going nowhere right now, am I not?  I don’t know what to do but apologize.  So, here goes:  I’m sorry this post is incoherent and without any point.  I wish I had some brilliant thoughts and insights to share, but genius is as genius does, and by that measure, I am certainly no genius.

I wish I could become some kind of Surak for the human race, to help engender the worldwide embrace of and commitment to rationalism, to reason, to “logic”.  Alas, I doubt that I have it in me to be such a benefactor.  My natural inclination has always been to be a malefactor, but reason tells me I have no right to do harm to innocent people and things.

I wish I felt like writing fiction.  I can channel my dark self in fiction.  And it would be nice, so to speak, to finish telling the story of Timothy Outlaw, most of which is unknown to anyone but me, and some of which would be a revelation even to me if I were to continue to write it.  And that’s just one of several stories that lie fallow in my mind.

Oh, well.  None of it matters, anyway.  Still, I hope you all have a good day, one that presages a very good week.

*And they don’t even mean it as a clever euphemism for “go f#ck yourself”!

**I am using the term “talk” rather than “write” here deliberately, though pedants might insist that what I am doing now is not talking.  I disagree with such people, plainly, and if they say that writing on a word processor is not talking, then what about a nonverbal person who has only that means by which to communicate?  Are they not talking when they do their written communication?

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I’m back, despite my back holding me back

I apologize for not writing a post yesterday.  I did not go in to the office, because the pain I was having on Monday just continued and worsened, and by yesterday morning I was just exhausted.  I’m frankly not feeling a whole lot better today, to be honest (and to be redundant, since I already said “frankly” which means essentially the same thing as “to be honest”).

In case any of you don’t already know, I have a thing called “failed back surgery syndrome”, which seems a bit unfair to the surgeon, who was a colleague of mine.  He did as good a job as science and technology allowed.  I just had a fairly bad lower back injury:  specifically, a ruptured L5-S1 intervertebral disk.

That’s not a bulging disk, that’s a rupture‒it was torn all the way down into the nucleus pulposus of the disk, which is the delicious jelly center from which the bouncability arises.  I had all sorts of investigations after the pain began, because it didn’t first present as back pain but with pain in my legs.  And then once the disk issue was confirmed, I tried a lot of less invasive interventions to treat my pain, none of which did anything much.

Even after the surgery, I tried and was on various medications, of various classes‒including opioids‒which helped some but which caused their own issues over time.  But the pain has never gone away since its onset, over twenty years ago, and which has contributed greatly to things like the failure of my marriage and the ruination of my career.  Still, the surgery did reduce the pain at least to some degree.

But of course, these last several days have been worse than usual, probably partly because I was exercising (low impact) to try to improve my condition and help my pain.  Irony can be pretty ironic sometimes, can’t it?

Anyway, I have to go to work today because it’s payroll day.  That was the same reason I kind of pushed to be let out of the hospital early with my recent kidney stone:  I had to do the payroll the next day.  That was unpleasant, I can tell you.

Such is my life now, it seems:  Chronic pain with varying intensity, insomnia, tension/anxiety and depression‒both at least partly (probably) related to ASD‒and work, then going back to the house to lie down to try to recover for the next day.  The only real bright spots are seeing my youngest child now and then (this was started by the kidney stone, curiously enough, so that at least paid for itself) and talking to my sister on the phone once every week or so.

In case anyone wonders why I have suicidal ideation, well, all the above should explain at least some of it.  Of course, I’ve had such thoughts since I was a teenager, long before my chronic pain developed, but I did have chronic depression (AKA dysthymia) starting at that time.  Looking back, this was probably at least partly because of my long-undiagnosed ASD (level 2).

I also had the other kind of ASD‒an atrial septal defect‒until I was 18 and had heart surgery for it.  Interestingly enough, there is a higher incidence of the heart-based ASD in people with the other kind of ASD, according to some studies I have read.  There’s also some increased prevalence of spina bifida occulta, which often has its effects very low down the spine.  I sometimes wonder if I might have had a very slight version of this that made me prone to have the back injury I had, but I may be going through “second year medical student syndrome” again with respect to that possibility.

Okay, well, sorry about annoying you with my medical history and medical/psychiatric complaints.  For the most part, it’s all I have to talk about anymore.  I don’t do anything interesting; I don’t do anything much at all other than work and trying to rest and distract myself.  It’s really quite pathetic and pointless.

I keep hoping that all the aspirin I take (among the other strictly OTC meds I now use) will lead me to have some form of hemorrhage and take this all away from me, but I have had no luck so far.  I guess it’s true what they say, that if you want something done “right” you need to do it yourself.

I don’t know if that’s always true, though.  I think what really happens is that people want to do something in a particular way for personal, often aesthetic, reasons, and want to be able to have some control over something, so they do it themselves.  Then, no matter how badly they fuck it up or how much better someone else might have done the job, they convince themselves that what they did was best, since confirmation bias is one of the easiest fallacies of reasoning into which people can fall.

Anyway, that’s enough for today.  I hope you feel better than I do, since that would at least be some comfort for me.  I’ll probably be back to write a post tomorrow, Batman knows why.  But he’s not telling.

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Is this my eigenstate? If so, I fear it makes me LESS coherent.

It’s Monday, and I really am going to try to keep this short.  The only reason I’m writing this post at all is because I don’t want anyone to worry about me in any unnecessary way.  I suppose it’s okay for people to worry about me in general‒I think I would, if I were someone else and if I cared what happens to me.  I’m certainly not in good shape, just as a general matter, and I don’t seem to be getting better at all, so who knows what to say?

But today, I am not taking off work or anything.  I am however in a significant amount of pain, above my usual baseline, and I have been so since last week.  It’s quite frustrating, and it takes the wind out of my sails for getting anything done but the bare minimum.  Certainly I have done no walking or biking.

I did have a lovely day on Saturday, because I got to spend time with my youngest.  That was, of course, quite wonderful.  So you will hear (or read) no complaints from me about that.  It was officially one of the two best days I have had since 2012, at least.

I wish that could make my chronic pain go away, but alas, it does not.  It does take the edge off my depression for a while‒certainly while spending time together‒and that’s obviously good.  If only there were something that could be done in addition to that.

Unfortunately, I’m currently in the state* that I tend to refer to as feeling as if I have already been embalmed despite the fact that I am nominally still alive.  This is meant to convey how stiff and constricted I feel, and how every motion is difficult and painful.  I at least did my dips this morning, despite feeling wiped out already upon awakening.  Yay, me, right?  Huzzah.

It probably comes as no surprise that I continue to have insomnia, and the pain exacerbation doesn’t help that.  Well, in a certain sense one could say it helps the insomnia.  It impairs the somnia, if you will.

I’m writing this on my smartphone, by the way.  I have the mini lapcom with me, but it’s too much trouble to use right now.  So I am using the smartphone.  Using it is, however, also somewhat painful for the bases of my thumbs, but almost nothing I do does not hurt, so there’s little hope of avoiding pain entirely no matter what I’m doing.

It looks like Chrome and Google Docs and everything have updated themselves again, and now it’s causing trouble with the way the computer starts and the way I write this on my smartphone as well.  It’s terribly annoying; they change things that don’t need changing and that seem to work fine, apparently for cosmetic reasons, because they think they need to…I don’t know, keep up with the other software giants?  Anyway, it’s terribly annoying.

Are they really continuously releasing a product that has so many deficiencies that they need to keep updating every other week (or so it seems)?  Perhaps they’re hiding nefarious changes behind these seemingly pointless ones.  How would we know if they were?  How can we know this isn’t the work of some AI that got out of the box, for that matter?

Though, honestly, I think such an AI would do a better job of not requiring so many pointless-seeming updates.  But maybe that would be the perfect camouflage:  artificial intelligence masquerading as human stupidity.

Heavy sigh, as Justine would say**.

Anyway, that’s gonna be enough for me today.  It’s 5:30 in the morning and I’m already exhausted.  I am not, however, sleepy.  Talk about a system that needs an update!

Well, have a good day if you can.

*Not to be confused with the state of Florida, though the two states have things in common.

**A character in The Accountant and its sequel.

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The blog and baseness of our natures would conduct us to most prepost’rous conclusions

Hello and good morning.  It’s Thursday again, and I’m writing my Thursdaily blog post.  There’s not much more to say about it than that.  It’s terribly boring, isn’t it?  Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going on about, here or in the rest of my daily life.

I do, though, have one thing to ask out into the ether (not to be confused with the ethernet):  Does anyone know how to disable (permanently) the default “Aptos” font in the Microsoft Office applications?

I’m not asking merely to find out if there is such a person.  Presumably, someone at Microsoft will know how to disable that moronic and ugly font.  I’m more interested to know if someone among my readers can give me specific and clear instructions about how to do it.  Because if I never see Aptos again, that would be the only satisfying outcome with respect to that font for me.

Oh, also, can we find out how to disable their stupid AI “copilot” until someone asks for it, not make its irritating icon just pop up until you tell it “dismiss until next time I open this document” or whatever?  I don’t want it dismissed until next time.  I want it dismissed until sent for, which is unlikely to happen (but not impossible, which is why I say just to disable it until called for rather than, as with Aptos, permanently deleting it).

All that, noble readers*, is about as interesting as my life gets for the most part.  I am not walking/have not walked today, because I still feel worn out and terribly stiff and uncomfortable, and my left knee is still sore.  All of this does not help my chronic pain, either (other than helping it to persist and to become more prominent).  At least I have a tighter brace on my left knee today, as well as on the other knee (that would be my right knee, which hopefully is obvious).

I wear a brace on the right knee both to prophylax against it developing pain and to keep things even.  I’ve noticed that if I do that, I get fewer blisters on my right foot than if I walk with a brace only on my left, problematic knee.  This implies (to me) that the brace on the left knee shifts the way I walk overall enough to change the pressure points on my right foot when I’m stepping, and thus there develops increased abrasion in between my first two toes on that foot.

Exciting stuff, isn’t it?

I’m being facetious, of course, but maybe that isn’t clear.  Maybe this is all dull** and it’s hard even to tell when I’m not being serious.  I don’t know what to say, though.  Obviously.  But just as obviously, I will keeping saying things despite not having anything of merit to say.  I’ll even allow myself to use one-word sentence fragments for emphasis, because I suspect my subject matter is too dull to allow merely usual written language to keep the reader engaged, so I must resort to cheap rhetorical tricks of writing to imitate verbal communication in some ways.

I wish I had something more to discuss, some interesting subject, some curious conundrum—or even a conundrum that doesn’t have any interest in learning about anything.  Alas, as far as I can tell, I have no such thing.  I’m very frustrated by the pain that makes exercising so difficult, and by the fact that I have so much trouble with bicycles—though at least part of those difficulties would probably be better if I weighed less.

Okay, here’s a mildly interesting thing:  at the end of that last paragraph (1st draft only, I fear), I had written exactly 666 words.  Those of you embedded in a culture that has historically been influenced by Christian mysticism will know that number to be the one supposedly given by “St. John the Divine”*** as the number of “The Beast”, the so-called antichrist.

Now, Sinjun there made it clear he wasn’t writing blatantly and obviously but giving some kind of cryptic hint—I suppose it’s a good way to keep readers engaged and imagining silly things for at least a few millennia so far.  He wrote something along the lines of, “Here is wisdom.  Let him who hath understanding count the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man, and the number is six hundred, three-score, and six.”  (This is the English translation, of course.  It was apparently originally written in Greek, which I neither read nor speak.)

However, much to what ought to be the embarrassment of all those credulous bumpkins who have been frightened of that rather banal number for so long, it’s my understanding that in the oldest surviving version of the text of Synjon’s apocalypse****, the number of the beast was actually 616!

How did the beast manipulate the process of translation and get the scholars to mis-record the number as 666?

Okay, well, I don’t think any “beast” actually did that, but it’s a funny fact that so many people have it wrong, considering how susceptible people are to numerology.  At least I can have some sympathy for such a thing, for I love numbers in general, and 666 does have a nice symmetry and charm to it.  It’s not as symmetric as 888 or 000, but maybe that subtle lack of symmetry adds to its grip on the mind.

And, of course, “1 and 1 and 1 is three…got to be good lookin’, ‘cause he’s so hard to see”.

Come together?  Well, don’t do it over me.  And there’s no urgency, so feel free to do it right now or not.  Otherwise, try to have a good day.

TTFN

*I think reading is noble, if the what we call nobility matters at all and is based on anything of real worth.

**It’s a bit weird how “all” and “dull” are almost, but not quite, rhyming words.

***Not the author of the Gospel of John.  I guess “John” has just always been a common name.  Every Tom, Dick, and Harry is named either John or Robert, it seems.

****That’s just a synonym for “revelation”, by the way.  It doesn’t specifically mean the end of the world, it’s just become associated with the notion.  And Armageddon is named after a neighborhood near Jerusalem, I think:  Megiddo (I’ve probably misspelled it).  And “holocaust”, which apparently comes from middle English through French and Latin and Greek and even Hebrew, has a meaning that’s fairly plain when you break it down:  “holo-“, meaning everything, as in “hologram”, and “-caust”, relating to burning, as in “caustic”.  So, “burning everything”.  Nifty, huh?

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I have no title today (other than “doctor”)

I don’t think I’ll probably write very much today‒though I’ve been wrong about that many times before, so I guess I’ll have to wait and see.  I feel particularly tired already this morning, but that didn’t let me sleep uninterrupted for more than a few hours.  So far today I’m not in as much pain as I was the previous two days, but then again, on neither of those two days was my pain as prominent in the morning as it became during the day, so I cannot be too optimistic.

I am, of course, trying all my various adjustments and interventions and so on to try to improve things, and they have limited and temporary success in general.  But I will keep trying, until the day that I finally give up and/or die.  I suppose, of course, that I might even get better.  It’s physically possible.  But I’m not going to hold my breath, because I’ve tried many, many things to improve my pain, and they have not had much success.

With that in mind, unless you have something truly esoteric that you think I, a physician with a broadly curious mind and with chronic pain, will not have encountered or considered, I don’t encourage recommending or suggesting pain treatments to me.  You can of course, and I truly appreciate the sentiments involved in such offers, but they are often frustrating.  Also, when people recommend things that I know are just woo, it’s additionally frustrating to have to remind myself not to respond impolitely.  Good intentions aren’t enough to make good things actually happen, but they are worth taking into consideration and appreciating.  You shouldn’t be rude to people who are trying to help, even if they aren’t succeeding.

Anyway, my new thing that I mentioned yesterday did not arrive; it’s supposed to arrive today, now, having been delayed.  I won’t get into it yet, but I maintain my stupid pseudo-optimism, which I cannot explain nor justify, except to say that I’m stubborn.  But I have my limits.

It’s been a string of rather frustrating days, lately, and though none of the frustrations are catastrophic, in some ways that makes them more pernicious.  With major setbacks, one is allowed and expected to need a real recovery process, a bit of time, a bit of rest, or maybe just some sympathy.  One gets a break.  With more minor setbacks, one gets no respite, but they can nonetheless pile up, especially if one has chronic issues already.  But one will gain little ease from others with respect to them.

For instance, when I mentioned to a coworker that I was having a lot of frustrating things happen over the past several days, I got a reply that everyone was having a rough time‒based on what data, I don’t know.  His rough times apparently have to do with taking his daughter to the doctor for a thankfully not too severe issue and his wife being sick and so on.  I would give almost anything possible to have such “problems” again, or just to be able to be with my children in a significant way again.

Anyway, I was not terribly pleased, and in response to his statement about the claimed recent local preponderance of irritations, I said, “Well, that makes everything all right, then, doesn’t it?”

It wasn’t the cleverest of replies, but at least I was channeling the Toymaker a bit.

Anyway, I’m sure few or none of you readers are particularly sympathetic, either.  Why would you be?  I’m no one and nothing, just a weird little “voice” on the internet/web.  I’m a wisp of marsh gas, a flicker of movement in the corner of your vision, an occasionally annoying afterthought, like the water that gets on your shirt at the waist from doing the dishes, but that you don’t notice until you’re done.  I’m a tiny little grain of rock that gets on the bottom of your foot inside your shoe; it’s not quite bad enough to force you to stop, take off your shoe, and clear it out, but it’s there all the while, and you end up with a blister and other aches at the end of the day, from changing the way you walk.

So, yeah, that’s me.  That’s how I feel today.  I know, it doesn’t matter to anyone, but there it is.  Maybe today will be better than yesterday.

I wish I could say it couldn’t be worse, but that’s never true.  Reality has no lowest level.  Things can always deteriorate.

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Progress and (good) regress reports

I’ll start with the good regress:  I’m feeling significantly closer to baseline pain levels today than I was the last few days‒at least so far, though the day has only just begun.  I suppose I could have just said that I feel “better” today, but I fear that could be construed as meaning that I feel “all better”, which is not true and hasn’t been true for many, many years.

Still, I would rather be at my current level of chronic pain than the pain I was in yesterday or the day before.  And it should probably go without saying that I would pick either state over the pain I had while my kidney stone was present (and the irritation from the ureteral stent over the subsequent two weeks was nearly as bad, largely because it persisted for those few weeks).

I didn’t get a lot of work done on Native Alien yesterday, though I did progress a little.  I also don’t have anything down regarding the new song-takeoff word “humility”.  I’m beginning to think that I should stick to a song every two weeks, because I just have too much else going on to be able to achieve a song a week.

I also think I may need to buy a new small keyboard (the piano kind, not the typing kind) to use at the office, because I really have a somewhat difficult time trying to work out chords for a tune when I’m trying to play the tune on the guitar and then to play the chords on the guitar and see how they sound together.  I can’t really do both at once on a guitar, but on a keyboard it’s a piece of piss (as Brits might say).  Also, singing while figuring out the chords is difficult because my pitch in singing can be influenced by the chord I’m playing, and I might mistakenly adjust the tune to the chords instead of the other way around, without realizing that I have done so.

So, we’ll see.  I may order a new, relatively small keyboard for the office.  It would need to be inexpensive, but that should be pretty doable*.

I have continued to do the Brilliant course on circuits, which remains quite basic.  It’s a far cry from when I started doing their course on linear algebra, which I had never formally studied.  Don’t get me wrong; that’s a very cool and good course, and it applies to things in which I’m very interested, such as General Relativity in particular, but I got distracted in the middle of it‒I think I should have started by reviewing the fundamentals first.

I am currently reading a book called Vector, which goes into the history and mathematical theory of vectors and tensors, via quaternions and so on, and that’s pretty cool.  I find that learning the history of science and mathematics really helps get the subjects into my head.

As for other matters, well, there’s not much else going on.  Today is payroll day at work, so it will be somewhat hectic, but there’s no holiday or anything to warp the schedule.  Hopefully that means everything will go pretty smoothly.  At least I won’t have to be in as much pain while doing it as I might be.

I’m trying very hard to get back into doing more regular exercise, but trying to avoid causing exacerbations to my chronic pain while doing so.  It’s a bit of a tightrope walk, so to speak.  If I screw up, while it doesn’t lead to me literally plummeting to my death, it can set me back and make me feel terribly discouraged.

I had intended to try to ride my bike to the train this morning, but starting yesterday afternoon it began to rain quite heavily all throughout the area, so I didn’t get a chance to pump up the tires and whatnot.  This morning it was not raining, but it is supposed to rain on and off throughout the day, so biking isn’t so attractive.  I guess I’ll just wait on that and do some extra walking if I can.

Sorry, I know this is probably really dull and uninspiring reading.  I don’t know what to say about that.  I just spew these blog posts out as they come, so I don’t claim much more responsibility for the quality of the content than you can claim while reading it.

I will keep you updated on progress on my song(s) and of course you will see my writing.  I suppose, if I should try to start writing fiction again, I’ll let you know about that, but I don’t think that’s likely to happen any time soon.  There’s too much other stuff going on, and I’d need to stop doing this blog every day but Thursday.  I doubt that anyone would actually feel bereft if I stopped writing, but I flatter and delude myself that maybe it would be so.

I hope once more that you all have a very good day, and I reiterate that, no matter what, you will have the best day you could possibly have.  Don’t let that stop you from trying to ensure that this particular best day is really a very, very good one.  You might as well try.

*Addendum:  I looked on Amazon and there was a well-rated, small “beginners'” keyboard by Yamaha that can be delivered by tomorrow and was quite inexpensive, so…reader, I ordered it.

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Some words about words to put to music and orthogonal pain

Well, it’s Tuesday, and here’s my blog post.  I’ve had a very rough day and night, I’m afraid.  Not just my back and hips and shoulders and so on, but as I told my boss when he asked me, “Every fucking thing hurts.”  I left the office about 45 minutes early, and got on the really crowded train that I would usually have avoided.  At least at the house I was able just to lay down, but I’d already taken a lot of (OTC) stuff to do what I could about my pain.  But it has certainly not gone completely away since yesterday; it hasn’t completely gone away for a couple of decades.  But it is still worse than usual.

In spite of the above difficulties, I did a little work on Native Alien yesterday morning.  For one thing, I retranscribed the melody onto real staff paper, because the crudely drawn staffs on which I had previously written it were very small and unwieldy.  Then I worked on the chords, confirming that, yes, the song (as I sang the melody when I made it up) is in the key of F major/D minor and indeed the initial chord should be D minor (this implies an overall minor key, but it is not dispositive).  I’m not sure of all the chords yet; I was in too much discomfort to keep working on it.

I also did my coin-flipping binary search for a new song topic/subject/trigger, and that trigger word is:  humility.

That could be quite an interesting take-off for a song idea.  It makes me think of Billy Joel’s song, Honesty.  Of course, I haven’t even begun writing down any lyrics yet, nor even really thinking of them, but I’m sure my subconscious mind is cranking away.  It always seems to be making progress; remember what I said yesterday about how, after a break, I sometimes come back better at something than I was before the break?

I may post here below the lyrics of Native Alien just for your perusal*, though not really for feedback unless you feel a burning need.  Here they are, in the first draft.  Bear in mind, there would/will likely be modifications to the wording in any final version that might one day come to exist of the song.

The planet Earth is beautiful

A gem in outer space

But I feel like a stranger here

As if I’m from some other place.

–

The humans are like aliens

They often make no sense

Their gives and takes and lies and fakes

Make me feel better on the fence.

–

Could I just be some kind of native alien,

Delivered by some ET stork that got its signals crossed?

Is it possible that I

don’t belong beneath this sky,

an entity who’s home but still is lost?

–

Do people that you meet seem strange

And even ones you know?

You study them to learn their ways

But it just leaves you in a daze

Unsure who’s really friend or foe.

–

Could you just be some kind of native alien

A seed that germinated here in unfamiliar soil?

Is it possible that you

Don’t belong beneath this sky so blue,

a mortal wrapped in some mistaken coil?

Again, I’ll remind anyone reading that A) this is the draft form, which may change, and B) the point of this exercise is just to write something, not to try to produce a masterpiece.

I know that not all of the lines quite scan, but that’s something that can be adjusted in the singing process.  Think of how Jimi Hendrix squeezed the words “Whatever it is, that girl put a spell on me” into the same musical phrase and length as “‘Scuse me while I kiss the sky”.  I’m no Jimi, of course‒for one thing, I’m right-handed, so I don’t have to reverse-string my Strat‒but I do what I can.

I haven’t done any more thinking on my ideas of quantum wave-functions literally back-propagating through time and interfering retroactively with earlier parts of themselves and other waves to set up a potential cause for superdeterminism or something else.  For one thing, as I said, I need to seriously advance my mathematical prowess with QFT and such before I can determine if there’s any real potential to the idea.  Also, it’s hard to think about abstract, four-dimensional complex time stuff when you’re in a lot of pain.

I did log in to Brilliant dot org as I mentioned I intended to do yesterday, where I quickly saw that they had a new course on circuits, and I couldn’t resist getting started on that rather than working toward that other notion.  The basics so far are, well, really basic, but that’s okay.  It’s still better to do something like that in one’s spare time rather than participate in outrage on social media‒even though that outrage is often justified.

Oh, well.  I’m still tired.  I’ll try to work on the Native Alien tune a bit more and probably tweak the lyrics, but I’ll also try to come up with some words related to “humility”.  That could be fun, at least.

I hope you all have a very good, relatively pain-free day.

*It seems I have done so.

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This post is not entitled to a headline

I’m writing this on my “smart” phone this morning.  When I left the office yesterday, I was just too exhausted to want to deal with carrying the miniature laptop computer.  I don’t know exactly why; maybe it’s because I’ve been burning my limited energy trying to force myself to be positive and upbeat.

I’ve even used the old autosuggestion, “Every day in every way I’m getting better and better” whenever walking or mentally idle.  But it wears me out after a while, and it feels so false as to be unsustainable in my head, just like when I found I couldn’t even think the words “I love my life and I love myself.”  I don’t believe any of it.

So, I wrote a few halfway positive blog posts in recent days and weeks, and hopefully they’ve been mildly entertaining from time to time, but I don’t know that I’m going to be able to keep that up.  I don’t feel good about myself or about the world in general.  I don’t feel in any way optimistic‒though I wouldn’t say I’m truly pessimistic, either.  It’s not even really what I would call fatalism.

I can only say that my attitude is that things in general will only ever be as good as they have to be, as they are forced to be, because there’s no percentage in being any better than that overall, just as there is no need in biology for organisms to be any better than the minimum required to survive and reproduce.

I could go into the reasons for these facts, but I’ve gone into them before on this blog, and I have done so more than once, so you can look around and find such posts here somewhere.  I’ve probably also discussed them on Iterations of Zero.  Today, I simply do not have the energy available to do so‒and it’s not even 4:30 in the morning yet.

Obviously my insomnia continues, but that’s not new.  I just haven’t been writing about it, because I thought people would be sick of it.  Similarly, I always have my chronic pain, which waxes and wanes a bit, but doesn’t ever take a day off, not for more than 20 years.  And my depression and anxiety continue, probably inescapably, since they are probably related to (or at least exacerbated by) my ASD.

It’s pretty sad, but I’ve realized‒or I have at least faced the fact‒that my time at the office is better than my time back at the house.  I have to go to the house, of course, because I need a place of privacy and rest, but I don’t like it there.  Especially in the morning, before everyone else arrives, the office is very much more comfortable.

And let’s be honest, pretty much all of my socializing happens at the office.  That’s more or less always been my pattern:  I make my friends either at work or school or what have you, though especially when I was younger, those friendships expanded from school and became broader and better.

That sort of thing doesn’t seem to happen anymore.  I am less and less able to connect with people as time goes by, partly because my energy budget is so low, and I have fewer and fewer interests and pastimes and distractions.  Everything in my life‒well, nearly everything‒sucks, and that’s because I suck.  The things in my life that don’t suck are as they are in spite of me.  Some people and things are just inherently good enough to be better than I am worse.  But that doesn’t make me any better.

I’m tired, and I don’t know any good, real reasons to keep trying.  I have and take very little joy in my nature.  Also, in general, I feel that my body is rotting throughout, and has been doing so for a few decades now.  I’m like a fruit that fell to the ground in infertile soil a long time ago, and there’s nothing for me to do but get first mushy and then dry and to slowly, grossly, wither away, surrounded only by various kinds of flies and ants.

Okay, that’s a bit purple and melodramatic.  My apologies.  But it captures a lot of how I feel about myself, my disgust and self-loathing; I make myself want just to throw up.

I wish I had the willpower to stop eating for good, just never to eat again.  That would be kind of nice.  Then I could just wither and fade out, and even get skinny before the end‒unless something else killed me before I reached that point.  I guess that would be okay.

Anyway, I’m not sure I’ll write tomorrow.  I am working then, of course, but I make no promises about writing a blog post.  The office is actually going to be closed on Friday for Independence Day, the first time I can remember us being closed for that holiday, but I’ve already got a pre-programmed post prepared for propagation that day.

Having the holiday off isn’t any particularly great thing from my point of view.  It’s not as though I’ll be doing anything to celebrate (other than my pre-programmed post), nor will I spend my time doing anything fun or interesting.  I’ll probably try just to knock myself out with Benadryl on Thursday night as I do on Friday nights, and then just…lie around.

I’m getting pretty bored with the movies and shows available, even ones that I know already and like, and YouTube is getting overdone, too.  There’s no new science that’s especially interesting, and certainly no new fiction that catches my eye.  And humanity in general, and America in particular, is just disappointing (I have never expected much from them, but they find so many ways to let me down, nevertheless).

Oh, well.  Whatever.  It’s not important, and it certainly doesn’t matter.  It’s just so wearying.  And I am tired.

I guess if I write a post tomorrow, you can read it.  If I don’t, you can’t.  That’s how that works.  But Friday will bring my preprogrammed post, and then Saturday and Sunday of course there will be nothing.

I’m not optimistic enough to start planning for next week.  Honestly, it doesn’t seem worth the wait.

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Lost then found thoughts about lost connections

While I was getting ready to go this morning, I thought about writing this blog post.  I thought about my usual starting point of saying something like, “Well, it’s Wednesday morning again,” or some other such inanity.  But then, as I was thinking about that, another, more interesting beginning and an actual, rather interesting, topic occurred to me.

Then, by the time I got ready to start writing—i.e., now—I had completely forgotten what I meant to write.

That’s terribly frustrating, but it is par for the course.

Oh, wait!  Maybe what I was going to write was about my realization regarding the effects of having a very uncomfortable crisis, but one that is inherently finite*.  It’s probably pretty obvious to you that what made me think of this was my recent adventure with a kidney stone.

Of course, while it was happening, it drowned out everything else, especially in the acute stages.  If that had been something without an endpoint, and if there were not sufficient medication to control the pain, then death would have been the only feasible alternative.  Even later, with the stent in place and the literal, constant, burning feeling that I needed to urinate for two weeks, things were pretty harsh.  But though it did not truly drown out my depression, and it was thoroughly exhausting, it did rather overshadow much of my chronic pain.

The day the stent was taken out I felt a fair amount of relief, of course.  But before long my usual existence asserted itself, with all its emptiness, and of course, with all its chronic pain.  And I remembered that, really, I have nothing going on in my life at all, nothing to which I look forward in any kind of long-term sense, and I have no further clue about or hope for my future.

It’s a bit reminiscent, on a shorter time scale, of what happened when I was a “guest” of the Florida Department of Corrections.  Though I was/am innocent of the charges that were created against me, I took a plea bargain for three years (toward which time served applied) because it was tolerably short and I didn’t want to risk the possibility of the much longer sentence with which the prosecution threatened to try to get, risking the outcome on the potential of a jury of my peers to see past my (apparently) not terribly endearing personality and the simple fact that I was a doctor and thus, to those who might be in a typical jury, a generally hated “elite”**.

I think it was the best available choice at the time.  And while I was “up the road” I was able to console myself with looking forward to seeing my children again once I got out—and to see them before they were adults, which would not have been the case otherwise—and that gave me the optimism to write first Mark Red and then The Chasm and the Collision and then Paradox City while I was at FSP West.

But then, of course, once I got out, it turned out that my kids didn’t really want the discombobulation of me having visitation or anything of that sort.  While I was heartbroken, I didn’t feel that I had a right forcibly to disrupt their lives when I had already fucked everything up, first with my personal health problems, then with my misguided attempts to help other people with chronic pain that led me to be arrested.

So, I bit the bullet and kept on writing at least, on my own, though I think my stories grew steadily bleaker and darker over time.  And I learned to play guitar and wrote and recorded a few songs, and did some covers and everything.  But I still didn’t see my kids, and haven’t even communicated with my son other than to receive his email stating that he didn’t really want to have a relationship with me (“right now”).

At least I got to see my youngest when I was visited in the hospital with my kidney stone.  That was a gift that was well worth even that much pain.  But now I’m back to my nosferatu existence, and like Vermithrax***, though I don’t feel pain as severe as the kidney stone, I still feel constant pain.

There may be people who can have chronic pain without getting depressed about it, and indeed, without losing their zest for life, but I fear I’m only left with the squeezed dry pulp of mine.  It seems to be just the way I’m built neurologically.

I suspect that most people who keep their spirits up despite chronic pain and disability do so because they are surrounded by a local support system of some sort****, and they probably do better at connecting with and getting along with other people than I do.

I’ve only ever really been close to specific, core groups of people, and with ones nearby, that I saw nearly every day.  I’ve never been good at connecting over long distances, and I have a hard time even picturing people when they’re far away.  I mean, I can “picture” them in the sense that I know what they look like, and I will be able to interact with them if and when I see them, but I cannot in any intuitive sense “model” their existence elsewhere.  I cannot really get a feel for what they might be doing and certainly not for what they might be thinking.

When even the people I love are far away from me, they really exist more as concepts than as people whose reality I can feel.  They are missing in a bleak and rather horrible way.  I feel terrible about that fact, and I hope it doesn’t come across as insulting—though it has probably hurt the feelings of people about whom I care on more than one occasion—but it seems to be just the way my brain works.  It’s also probably related to the fact that I never have for an instant imagined wanting to be someone other than myself, even though I hate myself; I just cannot even conceive of what that would mean, let alone wish for it.

Oh well, whatever, never mind.  I’m back on the train, yeah, and here I go again, on my own…alone again, naturally.

(I do like to quote things, don’t I?)

I hope you have a good day.

*Of course, as far as we can tell, pretty much everything is inherently finite, but some things are much more constrained and contained in time than others.

**This is based on what my attorney, and my attorney’s supervisor, said to me.  I don’t think they were trying to be unkind, and though their judgement was and is fallible, it was likely better than mine would have been.

***I know, I’m mixing fantasy metaphors and similes.  That’s okay; I like them.

****And most of them are probably not “ex-cons”.