I tend to complain a lot about anything that’s difficult or exhausting for me while in the process of doing it. It helps me bypass my executive dysfunction and my deeply rooted perfectionism, which often makes it damn near physically painful to get out of my blanket lump, so cussing about having to do the task makes the task doable.
It’s one of the joys I have discovered in adulthood, as when I was a child and teen, I was often made to do things without showing a hint of displeasure. My parents insisted that I did everything they wanted “with a cheerful heart”. So I often did, but gave them hell the rest of the time and would find ways to maliciously comply with that rule while doing the task. They learned pretty early that the only way to get me to do anything that I didn’t really give a shit about well was to pay me a king’s ransom 🤣. But now that I am away from them and better for it, I bitch about damn near everything that I have to do that doesn’t involve being cocooned in a blanket lump while in the process of getting shit done.
I don’t mind being productive, for the record. I actually quite enjoy it. It just hurts a lot of the time. Bitching about the task at hand gets me to start the process of being productive, and I highly recommend it.
Oh, please, Italian climate researcher. Teach my grumpy crippled ass your legendary ways. If there is anything I love doing, it’s bitching corporations the fuck out AND traveling places by train. Just ask my darlings Emerson and Lumine. They know the lengths I would go and the angry letters I would write to be able to Take The Damn Train. Beat me, make me write bad checks. Or angry letters. Or make angry phone calls. Just…. Trains, my BELOVED…
Anywho, that’s enough train posting. For now. Stay tuned for more magic, when and where I feel like it. ✨🤣🪕
Hello, everyone! Lazarus here. I was talking with Emerson about this web design class he was sitting in today, and we both came to the conclusion that I would be Immediately Sacked if I ever taught a web design class in real life. However, that did not stop my exceedingly sleepy brainhole from vividly imagining a darker universe in which I was, in fact, put in charge of teaching Web Design Class.
Here are a few, very imaginary scenarios of me teaching said class.
As you can see, I should never ACTUALLY teach Web Design Class. I am far too cantankerous for that. However, I found it hysterically funny to imagine these scenes.
I should probably skitter off and get some more sleep. Before I leave, however, have one more, completely unrelated scenario as a treat.
I hope y’all enjoyed my Sleepy Brainhole Fiction. Jesus indeed wept this day.
Hey, everyone. Lazarus here. Unfortunately, I think the caffeine pills I was taking were raising my blood pressure enough to give me chronic migraines again. My body is extremely weird. So caffeine, or at least THAT form of caffeine, is likely off the table. I had to take a migraine rescue med earlier today and lay down for a nap earlier because I was experiencing a very strange aura and didn’t want to take any chances fucking around and finding out with either a migraine OR worse, a seizure. Ergo, it was brain scrambly migraine med induced naptime and yours truly conked the ever living fuck out. Whee.
Further testing is required to determine whether or not all caffeine makes the Brainhole feel like shit or just the caffeine pills. Gotta love being chronically ill with a body even doctors have no clue how to treat sometimes. Yayyyy.
Now that I’m awake from my nap and have written all of this down, it’s time for the holy trinity of pain meds that I know DON’T induce horrific migraines and to find some form of food. I did manage to save the grocery order yesterday with less damage to my body than I thought I would take so far. However, things are still up in the air on that, considering today’s migraine ordeal and possible symptoms of a low grade fever. So, stand by for more details on whether or not that little glass cannon maneuver got me sick with what my loves caught. I would rather get sick for a few days than have our food stolen, though. Milwaukee is a batshit town. Hide your food, kids. There are porch pirates out here. 🤣
Have some memes in honor of my batshittery.
Stay tuned for more magic. And/or delirium. There is a strong possibility of that.
Hello, everyone. Lazarus here. 2/3rds of my local polycule has come down with some kind of illness and I may have overcaffeinated these past few days because I have been navigating a nasty ocular migraine as best as I am physically able. That being said, I’m likely going to have to throw my body into Hulk mode in a couple hours in twelve degree Fahrenheit weather here in a bit to bring our grocery order inside as I’m the only one around to do it. So I’ve taken to calling myself the Glass Cannon because you can either laugh or cry about life with chronic illnesses, I suppose. Today, I’m choosing to laugh. And blog. That, too. So I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.
Have a round of shitposts and memes to “celebrate” this most dubious occasion.
Stay tuned for more magic. Once more unto the breach! SAVE THE GROCERIES!
Hello, cherished mothers and fuckers. Lazarus here once more with your daily Des Moines Cropduster (context below, thanks, Theo).
I’ve started calling posting on here or sharing a link to a post I make a “Des Moines Cropduster” because of my eldritch headmate’s masterful nonsense. Ergo, you’re being Cropdusted as we speak….
I thought this prompt looked interesting and I have a few responses for y’all.
If you had a freeway billboard, what would it say?
Here are my favorite contenders thus far:
Ashley Halliwell’s Brainhole, New and Improved, Under New Management. NOW WITH MORE INSOMNIA!
Got questions? We have answers. Believe them or else.
The speed limit on this freeway is 80mph. But we bet you are not going as fast as MY BRAIN CAN PROCESS EVERYTHING…
How many sins have you committed today? Not as many as This Motherfucker. [photo of my face] If you can commit more Christological heresies than This Bitch in a 24 hour period, YOU get a free cardboard box.
All of the potential billboards would include a link to Open Sorcery for the bit, of course.
And simply to up the ante, I would place the billboards in and around the Cleveland, Ohio metro area. What can I say? I know my audience.
In case y’all can’t tell by the above dastardly suggestions and the post title, insomnia is STILL kicking my ass. I am beginning to wonder if it’s because of the fact that, on top of the vitamin B supplements I’ve been taking, I have started taking ibuprofen and Tylenol every 4-6 hours when I don’t lose time to deal with my chronic pain further. It’s working wonderfully for the pain. However, there’s been one absolute motherfucker of an unintended consequence. My brain has come completely, exhaustingly alive again, just like it did before my now-integrated headmate Allēna came down with mono when she was 16.
It doesn’t shut up. Nothing helps it. Not sex (for very long, anyway), not getting stoned off my ass, NOTHING. Zilch. Nada. The only thing that even remotely helps is letting myself pursue whatever idea has fascinated me until I’m so thoroughly burnt out and exhausted that I see fucking double and finally pass out. And even then, I sleep maybe 4-6 hours a night. It’s very, very rare these days that I get more sleep than that, and the sleep I get is absolute garbage. My dreams are vivid. I toss, I turn, I’m up every few hours… I swear I’m more delirious than asleep.
Am I simply a husky in human form?
This shit has made me intimately and acutely aware of why my strictly enforced bedtime was 8PM for most of my youth. I didn’t fucking sleep! I COULDN’T fucking sleep!
I’m realizing as well why my dad, Xavier, and my late grandmother, Rose, were always doing projects, as well, and I am more grateful for this blog and my myriad other projects and interests every day.
Rose was a chemist by trade, ran every damn social club in her town, was a former art dealer with a glorious collection of beautiful art, gourmet chef/baker, read books backwards, and I never saw her sleep more than four to six hours, either, before she got very sick in 2010. She was an indisputable genius whose brain was also fucking ALIVE, and frankly I can’t blame her for having so many interests and being constantly on the move. If I could handle it physically, I would be, too. Lord knows I am mentally at this point.
Fuck.
Well, that’s enough bitching about my blazing fast brainhole from me for one day. I’m probably gonna watch some TV and scream into the void or something, also known as every DM in existence. Emerson and Zelda are spending the night together and going out to a Fancy Restaurant tonight which means that your gremlin gets delicious leftovers, hehe. I live for tasty leftovers. I’m also calling my cozy partner in Michigan, Autumn, later. They were the suitor I mentioned a bit ago in this post and things are going so well! So things aren’t all shitty in my brain.
Hey, everyone. Lazarus here. Sorry for going fucking dark for the last little while.
Lumine visited this past week, during which time I was so goddamned stressed my body came inches from basically falling apart. It wasn’t his fault at all, and he was in fact a most excellent baby. If anyone is to blame, it’s Zelda for dropping the ball when it came to logistics and stressing Emerson and myself out so goddamn badly it started to take a physical toll on both of us. I ended up getting everything set up for Lumine’s arrival and picking him up from the train station pretty much single-handedly because if I hadn’t, he would have been marooned there for a couple hours at the very least, which would not have been Emerson’s fault, he had to work and could not escape early.
Emerson and Lumine bonded quite well, and Lumine actually bonded so well with Zelda’s legendarily shy and skittish cat and made me happy stim so hard in the process that he got an invitation to move up here once more shit shakes out on all of our ends, so that’s absolutely and legitimately lovely.
That leaves ongoing drama with Zelda, which sent me into a chronic pain flare across three body systems from which I am still recovering and now I have a chest cold to boot. I appear to have gotten so damn stressed that I started my menstrual cycle a week early, which most likely knocked out my immune system, allowing for this shit to happen. Oh, and Lumine is fucking sick, as well. I’m fucking sick of the interpersonal stress, and I’m sick and tired of it making me sick and tired.
So, I’ve essentially dropped my weight where a lot of shit is concerned and have stuck myself in a lump of blankets to sleep off this chest cold most of the time. Sleep has always been my favorite alibi when I don’t want to get involved in interpersonal nonsense, as most of my close people know that my sleep is sacrosanct and I do not get much of it.
When I haven’t been asleep, I have been watching Netflix, eating delicious food that Emerson made, or calling and hanging out with people that don’t stress me the fuck out. In other words, I am pretty intentionally being fucking useless to people who are causing a great deal of chronic stress because I quite simply do not have the energy to deal with this shit anymore. Like… I am so drained by this shit that my body will just make me pass the fuck out rather than deal with it. I quite literally physically can’t, and I’m going with my body’s cues here.
Hell yeah for becoming ungovernable and unusable.
Sometimes, though, my brain is tired and my body isn’t. That’s when I just shut my eyes for a bit and chill and let my brain rest and wander for a minute away from my phone or whatever the hell I’ve been doing that’s been making me so tired. It helps, and whenever I regain the capacity to get back to the task at hand, I get back to it.
During one of those brain naps, I got the idea for what could turn into my sixteenth album once my executive dysfunction releases its hold on me. I haven’t been able to play my instruments or record anything for awhile due to being so damn tired and stressed, but I hope I’ll eventually get back to it by prioritizing energizing people and things. I always do. Sometimes I just need a brain nap. Or an actual nap.
I’ve also discovered that watching Netflix helps get my brain in order when I want or need to spend long periods of time alone by acting as a sort of other presence or presences in the room so that it’s easier to both keep track of time (something I don’t have a concrete sense of without an anchor, like music or TV) and a semblance of human company without the pressure to engage back.
It’s easier to eat, stay hydrated, and generally take care of myself with shows I enjoy as an external anchor point. And considering that most of my stress is interpersonal, sometimes it’s nice to just…be able to listen, watch, and get invested in shit without having to do something about it, you know?
I also haven’t let myself really get invested in fiction in a long ass time (around a decade or longer) since I tend to get extremely deeply invested in anything I enjoy beyond my own fiction, so it feels wonderful to be a fucking fan of shit again. Emerson got me hooked on a show called The Magicians on a hunch that I would like it, and it’s honestly like what would happen if The Chronicles of Narnia and Doctor Who had a more dark, more fucked up baby than the both of them, and I am unfortunately quite invested in this bloodbath fuckshow. It reminds me a fair bit of my audio drama The Third Prophecy, and so a lot of the dark shit in it doesn’t really bother me, surprisingly. It’s the sort of thing I would write, and I am of the firm belief that real people are far scarier and more fucked up.
If you can handle the extremely dark tomfuckery, I highly recommend it.
Well, dearly beloved hooligans, I am getting tired again, so I must go rest my mind once more. Whee. I love y’all. Stay tuned for more magic ✨
