Have you ever woken up from sleeping and found that you have fresh memories of just doing something, somewhere that is not in your pajamas in bed? Have you felt insane because of these “false memories”? Well don’t feel insane, because what you have experienced is a very common thing called “dreaming.” Everyone does it! Even dogs and cats.

Dreams use a part of your brain called the Imagination Zone. When this zone is activated, imagination glands crank out a slime that gives you creative thoughts. Sometimes, it is used when you are awake, in order to imagine solutions, or to predict possible consequences. The Imagination Zone is the bustling factory that allows you, after enough practice, to imagine absurd scenarios that are very impossible, but generally fun.

ok yes

When you sleep, it is not really a little death. Your body still lives without you wakefully monitoring it, and this includes the zone mentioned in the last paragraph. While you sleep, it still produces thoughts and visions. Although without your conscious mind cautioning it for being too zany, it will go off the rails and sometimes even throw house parties even though it is a factory setting. But a factory location can be the best place to host a party, didn’t you know?

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Once upon a time, I would hang out in a cafe in Michigan where I could obtain a constant flow of free beverages. I would stay there for several hours, if the day allowed. While this put a major hurting on their supply of lemonade, it opened up several horrifying experiences for me. Whether it was the day that I counted seventeen teenagers/old women (dressing hip in the hopes that someone wouldn’t realize they are eighty) wearing those fucking fur boots, or the time an overweight mentally handicapped individual was a mere foot away from my face and “dancing” to whatever shitty song was playing, I have seen some times at that store. Most of the people I have encountered are nothing short of insane, such as the lady who insisted that I keep living in Michigan because one day it will be “the only state that has water.”

Some were pretty cool though, like a fellow I talked to on a few occasions. Even though he told me a lot about his childhood, college days, 20’s, 30’s, 40’s, 50’s, and 60’s, I still considered him a stranger. I mean we were never going to go hang out at the bar or sit around the television and pull for whatever Michigan team wasn’t a complete failure (aside from hockey). I’m not completely sure if he viewed me as a stranger too. I’m unsure of this because of a particular conversation we shared. It was that kind of conversation you could never prepare yourself for or really predict you would get into over the course of the day. Some topics just seem like safe topics around strangers in that you know you won’t be discussing them. Someone probably isn’t going to want to talk about religion with a person they don’t know. A man probably isn’t going to start a talk about their family problems with a stranger. Someone isn’t going to just openly discuss their wife and her horrific shitting problems with a total and complete stranger either.

Yes… well two out of three of those topics are still sacred.

suffering

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We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

leave ur beams outta this

Welcome to my irrational fear that makes me so uncomfortable that I have never allowed myself to think about it for very long. I wince when I consider it. Perhaps I should start with a little backstory.

When I was about seven years old, I had a series of night terrors where I would wake everyone in my family up at night because I was screaming horribly. The dream always started the same, with me being within one of five beams of light that appeared to be both moving and still, somewhat eternal or infinite I guess. But I’d be hurtling through space, then veer of towards Earth where I was suddenly me, as a child, in a weird dystopian service station somewhere. Eventually, the dream always ended when some space technology that had been harnessed and not fully understood would go haywire and there’d be repetition that was speeding up exponentially until I woke up FREAKING OUT.

I also hated (and still hate) night time windows being uncurtained because I don’t want things looking in. And also, I don’t like to look up at the night sky in case I see something I can’t explain. These things have bothered me for a really long time and there was one day in my teens that I wondered if I had been abducted, and I immediately stopped thinking about it. But by now, I worry about what if I am actually an alien and that’s why I don’t understand screaming or dancing. And why I see people in buffet lines and feel like I am observing livestock. Have I forgotten who I am and why I’m here? Have I gone totally insane, or am I just really close to it all the time? Halp.

There’s this thing called “sledding” that people sometimes do when it gets cold enough to freeze your dog solid and a few inches of snow happens to be covering the ground. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. I’m sure many of you have even participated in it at some point in your life. Nothing beats memories of your parents dragging you to a large hill when you’re barely old enough to walk, and then pushing you off of it on a small plastic board at fantastic speeds. It’s where every good childhood scar starts.

whee

I, personally, haven’t really gone sledding much in my life which is why I am informing you on the topic. And the only reason I’d consider going now is to simply try and hurt myself and the other people I’m with as much as humanly possible — which is exactly the mindset I was in the other day when my friend, Ronnie, asked me if I felt like dying. I replied with a swift “god yes” and the deal was done.

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New Japan Pro Wrestling is the biggest wrestling company in Japan. They recently had their biggest show of the year and it led me to think about how dreamy a lot of their roster is. I thought about it a lot. There are a lot of hot guys in wrestling, but they’re not always my favorites. Personally, just being hot isn’t enough to keep me interested in your wrestling match. Wrestling is the delicious cake, a shirtless muscle guy is the wedding gown-shaped fondant sculpture. I’d rather watch an ugly guy have a good match in the twenty-by-twenty squared circle than a hot guy have a bad one.

ugmug

New Japan is special though because there are so many good wrestlers who are also good looking wrestlers. Here’s the top five best in most attractive order.

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YouTube offers us an endless supply of free entertainment. If you can ignore or avoid the increasingly intrusive ads, it is a great time. Learn to DIY, or cook, or just watch fools doing foolish things, whatever. Or the confusing amount of people meticulously describing things they have purchased. Those are simultaneously relaxing and frustrating. Yoga, music videos, relaxation, hypnosis — I’m just listing things that I think of because I can. It’s all there!

Of course there are plenty of things that shouldn’t be there. Things that should never exist once, let alone in such huge amounts. You know I’m talking about ASMR but does everyone here know what it is? Forgive me for showing you:

omg I hate it.

 

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Gather ’round, children, and I will tell you a tale. Way back in the year 2004, I thought it would be a great idea to fall off a shelf that was about fifteen feet off the ground and land directly on my ass. I immediately felt the effects of my little incident, because it seemed that I had broken every part of my ass ten times over, and thrown it in a wood-chipper for good measure. I was pretty sure most of my tail bone was located in my neck. For those of you unable to understand just what happened, here’s a quick diagram of what it felt like:

ouchie

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Our posts are late because since she arrived back from Australia, Dollissa has been in a crumpled heap somewhere on the East Coast. She has not made it back to HQ, but we found this journal in her drafts.

woah

 

Hour 1: The plane is full. Planes usually are. The first flight is scheduled to be 15 hours. I take a deep breath, buckle my seat belt as shown in the probably unnecessary demonstration of how to buckle your seat belt, and settle in. I mean not really, there’s no room to settle.

Hour 2: We were already given drinks. I’m afraid to drink it because I’ll have to use the bathroom, but I do anyway so that I don’t die of dehydration. It’s water.

Hour 3: I’ve been scolded twice for trying to use my phone on the plane. Apparently it’s a Chinese rule that you can’t use mobile devices on an aircraft, which is contrary to any flight I’ve ever been on. Goodbye, Spotify.

Hour 4: My notebook isn’t writing in itself, so I put it in my lap with the pen. It’s time to try to nod off angrily, but I can’t sleep unless my head is slammed into something and my hands are in little fists. I eat a minuscule airplane meal and try again.

 

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We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

kaboom

Let me clear something up, immediately. I am not a crazy survivalist type who stores up rations and first aid kits and jugs of water because I believe that there is an impending Dooms Day at hand. I am not afraid that there will be some huge world war, or nuclear holocaust, or what else is there — Armageddon? The Rapture? Whatever. None of that is anything that preoccupies my mind very much.

However, whenever I consider maybe going in for some treatment, as many of my friends and acquaintances do, as many friends actually recommend that I try out, I get a very real fear that if I do so, if I give in and just seek outside help, then the world as we know it will swirl down the drain and we will be living in a nightmarish post-apocalyptic situation where it’s every man for himself and all prescriptions will stop. So all of the medicated people will lose it, either physically or mentally or both. And I am not like “I want to keep my wits sharp!” I’m just like, if I got used to relying on mood stabilizers, I think it would be even more difficult to manage things in that situation. Sorry I can’t restructure society into something that is hopefully better, because my body is dealing with withdrawal and I can only sleep in this hollowed out log with a scrap of a blanket and cry. I mean, I probably will be doing exactly that, but I want it to not be because I am having medical withdrawal symptoms. Those somehow sound scarier and worse than what I’m used to.

I think this concern makes a lot of sense! But I guess in the back of my mind, it does seem slightly dramatic. And maybe like I’m making excuses. But I’d rather not cause end of the world just because I was too tired to go on like I am. Maybe you all should be thanking me!

Mark Twain was born on November 30th in the year 1835. His name then was Samuel Clemens but he obviously changed it at some point. According to this documentary I watched about him once, he had an exciting life and a complicated personality. I encourage you to go on ahead and learn more about him for yourself. He was also a humorous man, and if anything happened in the world, the newspapers would ask him for his opinion, because he was pretty good about only speaking in quotable soundbites. Later, people would gather these quips into quote books, so that we could always learn from his eternal, universal wit and wisdom. Also, he wrote books and stories.

mark twain

I was made to read a few of his books in school — I assume we all were. And I really hated Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. I know it was “important” for a bunch of reasons, but I hate books written more or less phonetically. It was a pain. I don’t remember anything about it aside from how much I couldn’t stand how river people of the 1850s spoke. I can see how it was so amazing, or whatever, that he represented people from all classes and how they spoke, but I just couldn’t take it! Anyway, there have been a couple of short stories that I HAVE particularly enjoyed. One is “The Facts Concerning the Recent Carnival of Crime in Connecticut” and the other is The Mysterious Stranger.

 

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