the wheel

this thing is starting to replace my notebook. thats bad. i was sitting here thinking i should babble in my notebook for a little while to pass the time. then realized that i could type faster and my handwriting is ugly, and if i wrote anything worthwhile (like nothing on this page so far) i would just have to type it out anyway.
its the way of things.
also having discovered how to paint in photoshop i fear i will never draw on paper again. how can this be happening to me? but there are SO MANY COLORS and neat tricks and things. I am shamed to show the picture that i spent A WEEK creating in paint, first on the ancient compusaurus at my work, then took home to my slightly over the hill machine and had to completely redo because of the higher resolution. THEN took that into photoshop to try to insert something and tried out the airbrush from there on it.
im gonna have to redo it all again, dammit.
i need a stylus so the mouse doesnt make my hand go numb anymore, too. did you catch that, god? (hey it works for some) yes this is me, the antitech, speaking.
all this and i haven’t even got my music setup yet. will i ever leave my house again when that happens? good thing i love my bike too.
there are a damn lot of things to love right now actually. as much as, for the last 3 days, I have wanted to burn down the world for being an irritation to me (that’s the weather and pms talking) i feel really blessed. i tend to surround myself with really excellent people (recent bad judgement calls aside) who care a lot about me and actively support my wellbeing. right now i am acutely aware of their presence.
i have overcome several years worth of fear and resentment and curdled love to in order to heal a rift between myself and an important person from my past. it is going well. this required me to shed an old skin, serpentlike. i continue to revel in the feel of newness and rejuvenation such a lightening creates.
my lost friend was seen recently early in the morning with a vanload of crackheads. while I am done fretting about him and feeling responsible, i continue to be saddened by what happened, what is apparently still happening. it makes me wonder if I could fall in similar fashion. not to drugs, which have never been a big problem for me, but self destructive inclinations to which I have succumbed in the past. this severely damaged my life. my sanity, my security, my self image, trashed, by my own actions and things I allowed to be done to me. it only takes one act of bad judgment sometimes to put you in a place where your decision making becomes progressively more flawed. could I go there again? i always thought that he was firmly on the other side of all that. he had everything, and the ability to build what he chose. he chose to destroy instead, and i know that sometimes i have chosen the same. can i be trusted with a good life?
i feel that people who have creative gifts have a responsibility to put them to use. i have more of them than is good for me, which has sometimes resulted in an implosion of sorts, which renders me artistically incapacitated for long periods. the frustration and pressure of making can engender a great longing to say fuckit and trash all.
i can always make something else out of the pieces.
its all part of the same cycle anyway, but there is destruction and there is slow rot, which is the way drug addiction ruins. i prefer a nice clean lightning bolt any day.
do you hear that out there through that burning fog? enjoy your crack, your whore and your new "friends". you wont see me go down like that.