Oil Change In Kona - Speech Slurred - Looking Puffy And Debauched - Stress At Work - A Tumultuous And Toxic Environment - Not Able To Face A Beautiful, Confident 18 Year Old Girl - Looking Forward To Moving Back To Los Angeles
Tape Transcriptions - Olympus Voice Recorder Entry #11 - October 5, 2004 (b)
*2004.10.5. (b) (Olympus voice recorder entry #11.) (9:09 audio)
It's October 5th, 2004, 11:30 a.m. I'm running about an hour and ten minutes late for an oil change for my car. I have several other errands to run in Kona while I'm there.
I just want to say again that one of my primary problems -- I mean -- just this morning I felt pain at the back of my head, swelling in my brain, and also pain in my thymus gland as I was trying to write; and, as I spoke with someone on the phone this morning my speech was slurred; and, there is just really, this sense of irritability about me that I just can't stand. I hate it! You know, when I try to flow -- when I try to bond -- when I try to be emotionally transparent and energized -- I feel burdened so much, energetically, by manmade EMF. This causes my bodymind to retract. I despise who I've become. I look puffy. Debauched. My body is swollen and puffy. I masturbated on Sunday looking at a porn movie on the web. I sit so much in front of the computer. I exercise maybe 25 or 30 minutes a day -- maybe. And I look at pictures of my brother and me, or just me. My shoulders have narrowed. I've gotten shorter. My dick is smaller. I'm certainly not as tall. My teeth are becoming increasingly crooked, collapsing inward.
So I was at the fruit stand yesterday and I ran into X (edit 1) and her daughter Y (edit 2). Y looks stunning. She's a beautiful girl -- a beautiful woman. She's 18, maybe 19 now, I don't know what she is, 18 at least. She looks gorgeous. She has a strong personality. Confident girl. I was on my lunch break, and I'm exhausted from work. I've got eight students and not enough support. These kids have tremendous needs that I just can't meet satisfactorily. I have one EA [educational assistant]. When she goes to lunch I'm often down to zero support. Just me. All the cleaning of the room, playdough on the ground, blocks on the floor, play kitchen/dress area in disarray, all the diapers, kids making shi shi (pee) in their pants -- it happened twice yesterday -- one-on-one in the bathroom, meanwhile chaos is in the room because there is not enough supervision. And it's just the kids are so high-energy, at least a few of the boys. Very high-energy. It's a tumultuous environment that I find toxic. I find it toxic. It's harming me, especially in my state where I have to match it energetically, and I'm caught in the cross-fire from a couple of relatively powerful microwave transmitters both about a mile from school. They're shooting toward the school, above it.
So I just briefly talked with Y and her mom. But I felt uncomfortable, and I felt like, you know what, Y might be interested in me had I been like I was five or six years ago when I last really talked to her. I was thinking of that letter I wrote her when I was I think 34. I was so much more charismatic then. I was much less burdened existentially. That letter was sort of a riff off of, partly, how I had burst into her English class, taken it over for a few minutes, had the class chanting something about freedom -- it was around Martin Luther King, Jr. day -- and you know what? I am not at that place right now. You know, I'm becoming increasingly pedaphillic -- wanting to be surrounded by eight and nine year old girls [it doesn't help that they swarm me at recess time]. You know, I love their innocence, and their youth, but it's like, "Come on man! Fucking wake up!" So I was irritable, and I wasn't who I wanted Y (edit 8) to see, and not who I wanted to see. So I left. I got out of there within a couple of minutes. Basically it was a hi-bye. But my emotional response to her was one of irritability and wanting to hide from her. In any event, I just feel miserable, and it's hard for me to show love or desire to be around another person when am so repulsed by myself. So I just wanted to hide from her, you know, especially at the low ebb of my day, which is right after lunch. You know, right after I've gone full-tilt for four and a half hours, which tends to totally wipe me out by 12:30. It's a good group of kids. There's probably worse work to do in the world, but I find it exhausting, and it's hard on my consciousness.
I am hopeful that if I take a (edit 3) position in Los Angeles that my kids will be a lot more mellow. Maybe I won't even be in a school setting. That extra tension of having all those kids around won't be there because I will be in a special school. I won't have to work as hard because I'll have fewer students and better supports. And I'll just be so pleased, and my consciousness won't be so challenged -- you know -- thrown over a barrel, keel hauled by the demands of these attention-deficit three-year-olds.
So it's my irritability; it's my just feeling stressed and tense most of the time. There is not a moment of my day where I feel at peace. And the breakdown is more apparent auditorily in my speech and physically in the way I look.
Comments from June 18, 2013
Nothing really has changed. Transcribing these entries is becoming a chore. I want to finish the 18 or so entries in this Olympus Digital Voice Recorder that my uncle gave to me many years ago. Then I can get back to transcribing the earlier -- and more important -- entries on microcassette from the early and mid-1990's. I need to do this before the tapes go bad. I don't think they have a shelf-life longer than 20 years (if that) and that's how long it's been for many of them. But I've grown so distracted, with such a tremendous energy outlay dealing with work and long-distance commutes to safe (EMF-wise) hiking areas, that I wonder whether these earlier audio entries of mine will ever see the light of day. My current teaching position at (edit 4) is likely less stressful than the one I had in (edit 5). It is certainly less physically intense. But I think I've grown flabbier as a result. I live less than two miles away from a couple of towers, so it's hard to think clearly about any of this. (edit 6). There are so many hair stylists, cashiers, coworkers, and so forth who have expressed interest in being a companion of mine that I cannot count them. But most all of them lack the vitality and purity of emotion and spirit that I seek. So I keep my distance from them all. (edit 7).
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