-Mobile continuation from Xanga blog PinkyGuerrero at PinkyGuerrero, Pinky, Janika, this blog is Basically Clueless, ongoing continuation at blog PinkFeldspar, in that order.
-Most of the graphics and vids click to sources.
-Personal blog for Janika Banks.
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Friday, March 6, 2020

come with me now

Aaaaand I have abruptly leapt to another blog, so perhaps this whole rough year is over now and I can move forward. It was just a really really hard year. Glad I'm past all that now.

Tuesday, March 3, 2020

the organ maintaining hull integrity so I stay healthy

One of my physical therapists let me know I have really young skin for my age and had a hard time believing I went through a body-wrecking self destructive heavy alcohol and more stage, to the point of kicking off a nasty autoimmune flare that lasted a few years.

I absolutely do not take my health for granted. I certainly haven't earned the good fortune of not looking my age.

The divergent nature of living for decades in loads of pain and stress and looking younger than my age the entire time only means I don't have the audacity to be vain. I do try to keep up being clean and pleasant to behold, but I honesty fail spectacularly in any fashion sense.

Inside my head none of any of that exists. I know the truths I live with.

"So you'd rather die than give up the man who tried to kill you?"
Sadly, yes, but love had nothing to do with it. I've often wondered how many other children he went on to rape over the years after I hid ours away from him.

"You were the one time that I let love weaken me, and I want you around as a constant reminder to never make that mistake again."
Very literally played that out myself, just didn't announce it. Sometimes I wonder if my psychologist ever figured that out. Just because one answer comes out of my mouth doesnt mean all the rest of me feel that way.

I could look like a Shar Pei and it wouldn't change my life inside my head.

I can't even begin to describe how boring my life is now compared to before. It saves my wretched soul from rotting in prison or in the ground.

I never look in the mirror.


Nevermind, there's no way I'm going to power through, so back to 1-1-1 while the taper stalls. The suckage in my arm is pretty real again.

My house smells like the salmon I cooked last night. Windows open, beautiful day.

Remember I had chopped my hair into an accidental John Wick? It's long enough to hold a French braid now, thank goodness. I'm just not cute with jaw length hair.

Dang it, accidentally pre-published. Oh, well. Gonna keep going.

Went completely off track at the psychologist. I really need to get back to listing topics of things I want to work on. It occurred to me driving away that 13 years ago my original intent was to be able to talk to people better, and that the last time we met I announced I don't want to talk to anyone any more at all. And he's the only person I talk to about stuff that really concerns me.

I have a family. I do have a few friends on this earth. I still feel empty inside. And I'm not sure I care that much any more about that.

If this is all in my head, if my life really is made for lurker games and shadows behind the scenes, if there really are strangers that reach out and check on me when people I love walk on by, then maybe, just maybe, this whole covert war thing validates the dream I had as a very young child (possibly 3 or 4) that I was a man with an important secret job and I was killed by an explosion, and I came back to finish what I was doing then.

I've joked around about people nearly and sometimes actually dying around me any time I really do get to work, and the first thing I thought per that pinky blog post I made today was possibly I got nudged about a threat to the ONE person I really talk to. If that's the case, do I withdraw, like I did from everyone else? Or do I weigh the current situation and continue?

I will never really have what I want in this life. I've accepted that. Friends came and went. Loved ones are far away or on very different mind planets. Sometimes I want to dwell.  Sometimes I can't feel anything else. So I live in my head.

Aspienado is rattling the bars.

Monday, March 2, 2020


Possibly another taper migraine like 2 weeks ago, auras in both eyes, but at least blood pressure is very reasonable this time. I'm down to only two gabapentin 100 a day now, skipping midday dose this week. Start twice a week physical therapy tomorrow. Hoping the pain level will keep going down as I finish the taper.

I haven't had any blog surprises show up since dad died. Just realized that. Interesting. Whoever was popping in has gone quiet again.

Yeah, I know, right? I just did that quiet ones post yesterday. Maybe I'm getting nudged.

Yeah, the game is surreal. Like one of me is psychotic or something and delights in baiting me.

Pretty sure that one goes back to the early days. Possibly the mean one. A very old dream just popped up with the dripping water sound in the dark, so who knows. The one inside a very dark cave with a big pool around a damp middle wall, and I'm barefoot so I can feel my way in the dark along a rough skinny ledge, and I'm trying to very quietly stay ahead of a dark figure also following the wall. One of those horrible dreams that never stops, locked in time, always there somewhere in my head. I'm always a young child in that dream, unable to call out for help, no possibility of safety.

The place I went when I reached out for the wall before I expired, perhaps. Not sure.

Probably NSFW.