I no longer use the "sportmurphy.com" email listed elsewhere online. try myspace/facebook if you have something to say or ask.
![[Powered by Blogger]](http://buttons.blogger.com/bloggerbutton1.gif){kind=small}
Friday, May 16, 2003
Two limericks on Lemerick
There was a young man whose demeanor
In court couldn't have been serener.
For the killing of Jews
(Though it's certainly news)
Is barely a B misdemeanor.
The jury said, "though we're disquieted,
The Jew should've hid while they rioted.
So, sure, the kid grabbed him
And fatally stabbed him…
Were you never young, drunk and exci-et-ed?"
There was a young man whose demeanor
In court couldn't have been serener.
For the killing of Jews
(Though it's certainly news)
Is barely a B misdemeanor.
The jury said, "though we're disquieted,
The Jew should've hid while they rioted.
So, sure, the kid grabbed him
And fatally stabbed him…
Were you never young, drunk and exci-et-ed?"
Tuesday, May 13, 2003
Greetings from the sullen streets of Anhedonia. The misery continues and keeps me from maintaining any interest in ANYTHING. Been trying to divine some wisdom about all this. For instance…
http://www.acsh.org/publications/priorities/0501/depression.html
"Once smokers develop the routine of using nicotine as an aid to altering their mood states, they may also grow to depend on the drug as a tool for "dysphoria-avoidance." Nicotine, while not necessarily making people "high" may make them "normal," or what David Krogh defines as a state of "psychological neutrality." In individuals prone to depression, such a neutral emotional state is highly desired and, perhaps, only achieved through the use of drugs. Nicotine dependence in the smoker with a history of depression may be particularly difficult to combat."
Right now I am so sick of feeling completely alienated, joyless and edgy that I'm pretty close to lighting a cigarette. I dunno… I read that people (with my tendencies) who try to quit are twice as likely to succeed if some "nicotine replacement" (like the patch) or an anti-depressant is employed (my friend Liz - who should know - concurs with that and chastises my stupidly spartan attempt to go cold turkey). I'm told that the odds improve further with some combination of the two. Could be, But I know that if I light up RIGHT NOW I'll feel "better" RIGHT NOW. When the only emotions one can fully experience are sorrow and rage, the knowledge that this is all "healthy" helps about as much as the faith that - once I've truly kicked the habit - I can return to my former state of "normalcy" …which is to say, profound depression. And even though I'd feel better ("real, compared to what"), there would also be this sort of "aw, shit…" feeling that I punked out and crawled back to the weed.
So I try to remember all the chest pain, wheezing, vascular twitching, coughing, et al …all of which stopped IMMEDIATELY upon laying off the butts… and gain resolve from observing pics of gaunt cancer victims, blackened lungs and orphaned kids… considering that consummation devoutly to be dreaded. This helps squash the urge to surrender for a while.
Then I ponder the sure fact that - though I may remain maddeningly hopeless, jangled, irate and distracted - at least I'll put on tons of new lard.
Hither the rock, thither the hard place and yon the deep blue sea. Devil's looking better and better.
Part of me… a part you are all by now way too familiar with… sez: "Well, with my luck I'll quit completely... go through all this hell... and THEN find out I'm dying anyway."
This is probably true. My doom is probably festering silently inside me as I write.
But maybe not - and maybe this ordeal (which is, of course, my own stupidass fault anyway) will presage a new awakening of health and happiness just in time to share it all with the kids! Yeah right.
But I mean, I could smoke now and go to the doctor anyway, like, tomorrow or sometime, and start fresh with the patch and the pills and then it'll REALLY work.
But that's bullshit.
Is it?
Sure.
No it ain't.
Fuck you.
Just as my comedy writer pal Steve can cook up material all America will bust a stitch over as he himself remains poker-faced at the keyboard, I can see the humor in this situation without feeling any amusement whatsoever.
There are smokes nearby. My zippo is full.
My only other words for tonight are:
O cocksucking, motherfucking, shitpissing, cuntbastardly, smegmatittish, anusnippled, choadbitchulous, scumtesticled, fartfelchular, pusroids of life: I hate. I hate. And that's no lie.
http://www.acsh.org/publications/priorities/0501/depression.html
"Once smokers develop the routine of using nicotine as an aid to altering their mood states, they may also grow to depend on the drug as a tool for "dysphoria-avoidance." Nicotine, while not necessarily making people "high" may make them "normal," or what David Krogh defines as a state of "psychological neutrality." In individuals prone to depression, such a neutral emotional state is highly desired and, perhaps, only achieved through the use of drugs. Nicotine dependence in the smoker with a history of depression may be particularly difficult to combat."
Right now I am so sick of feeling completely alienated, joyless and edgy that I'm pretty close to lighting a cigarette. I dunno… I read that people (with my tendencies) who try to quit are twice as likely to succeed if some "nicotine replacement" (like the patch) or an anti-depressant is employed (my friend Liz - who should know - concurs with that and chastises my stupidly spartan attempt to go cold turkey). I'm told that the odds improve further with some combination of the two. Could be, But I know that if I light up RIGHT NOW I'll feel "better" RIGHT NOW. When the only emotions one can fully experience are sorrow and rage, the knowledge that this is all "healthy" helps about as much as the faith that - once I've truly kicked the habit - I can return to my former state of "normalcy" …which is to say, profound depression. And even though I'd feel better ("real, compared to what"), there would also be this sort of "aw, shit…" feeling that I punked out and crawled back to the weed.
So I try to remember all the chest pain, wheezing, vascular twitching, coughing, et al …all of which stopped IMMEDIATELY upon laying off the butts… and gain resolve from observing pics of gaunt cancer victims, blackened lungs and orphaned kids… considering that consummation devoutly to be dreaded. This helps squash the urge to surrender for a while.
Then I ponder the sure fact that - though I may remain maddeningly hopeless, jangled, irate and distracted - at least I'll put on tons of new lard.
Hither the rock, thither the hard place and yon the deep blue sea. Devil's looking better and better.
Part of me… a part you are all by now way too familiar with… sez: "Well, with my luck I'll quit completely... go through all this hell... and THEN find out I'm dying anyway."
This is probably true. My doom is probably festering silently inside me as I write.
But maybe not - and maybe this ordeal (which is, of course, my own stupidass fault anyway) will presage a new awakening of health and happiness just in time to share it all with the kids! Yeah right.
But I mean, I could smoke now and go to the doctor anyway, like, tomorrow or sometime, and start fresh with the patch and the pills and then it'll REALLY work.
But that's bullshit.
Is it?
Sure.
No it ain't.
Fuck you.
Just as my comedy writer pal Steve can cook up material all America will bust a stitch over as he himself remains poker-faced at the keyboard, I can see the humor in this situation without feeling any amusement whatsoever.
There are smokes nearby. My zippo is full.
My only other words for tonight are:
O cocksucking, motherfucking, shitpissing, cuntbastardly, smegmatittish, anusnippled, choadbitchulous, scumtesticled, fartfelchular, pusroids of life: I hate. I hate. And that's no lie.
Sunday, May 11, 2003
Misery. Still no smokes. It's virtually impossible to think straight, let alone write in this fucking blog. I just watch tv all day and night. If the physical effects of the cigs were not so pronounced and uncomfortable already I'd probably put off quitting even further, but I can't. The effect I feared has taken hold... brutal exacerbation of an already deep depression / anxiety spiral. It sucks indescribably. I keep writing other lines and immediately deleting them, and that probably means I should stop now. Maybe this whole blog should be permanently shitcanned.