F*ck it, we blog

Yo! What’s up party people in the place to be!

First: No, I did not vote for Donald Trump.

Second: I wanted to write this blog on my computer, even brought my laptop to my bed, intending on using it while I played YouTube videos in the background.

I regret to inform you that I am actually typing this blog entry on my phone.

The election news shocked everybody, and even people I follow in different countries echo that the ripple effects will be felt around the world, no doubt, especially in Palestine.

I wrote this to a friend on Instagram:

“Been letting a wave of emotions kind of wash over me after the election results. Just kind of baffled that people can vote to take rights away.

Before I dump on you:

1. I hope you’re doing okay, and if there’s anything I can say or do to help if you aren’t, please let me know.

_____

To make a long story short, I’ve been lying at work, acting as if I voted for Harris. Mostly because it’s been presented like she was the only option.

Now that this hullabaloo is over I feel like I want to dive much deeper into mutual aid and community building. I don’t know where to start, I have an idea, maybe start with a sheet of places to volunteer, links to services or something, just something that’s counter to the war machine, but also more productive than screaming into the void that is the internet.

I had to let the violent thoughts pass. Had to think beyond punching my “friend” that wanted to vote for Trump, try and find ways and posts that didn’t shame my other friend for not voting.

It’s a wild time to be alive, but I feel now, after meditating on this stuff, that now is most definitely the time to be trying to make a difference.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk lol”

__________

My feelings are that now, more than ever is a time to build community. I don’t know in what way shape or aspect that looks like for me but I have to start somewhere.

I’m not alone in this sentiment, and I know that there are organizations working at state level to establish protections for women’s body autonomy and rights for the LGBTQIA.

Trump winning again means he can’t run a third time, which is good, but also I feel like he doesn’t plan to. In my head, he plans to uproot the legal framework of the American government and hold power as long as possible, extending his presidency as a dictatorship, King of America.

I don’t mind being invaded by China, but that too, is not ideal.

I hope it’s only 4 years.

I hope things get better.

I hope we have democratic candidates that think of the little guy.

I hope I hope I hope I hope!

I have so much hope! So much love!

But having it and working it into service for others are two different things.

Your hope, rage, and love should radicalize you, galvanize you to pour into your communities and make better the world and system that’s betrayed you, turned its back on you.

Those are my ideas anyway.

Outside of that?

I’m hoping I can pay off my credit cards this holiday season, and keep them paid off through most, if not all of next year.

It’s not really a resolution, but more so a goal.

I need to build a financial base for myself.

There are video games to buy!

Peace out Girl and Boy Scouts!

Better Left Unsaid

This blog would’ve been in place of “Vlog 2” or “Small Talk, Episode 2” had I not recorded that video first.

But it’s more of a list of concepts, blurbs, broken sentences instead of actually a coherent message.

It could’ve gone by many titles: “Anxieties” “Observations at 36” “Word Salad” etc.

Without further ado, here it is:

My hygiene is bad, and I think everyday of how to improve it.

I’m fat.

I’m falling behind in school.

I wonder if I made a patreon if people would pay for it, what would I even offer?

How do I write a script for YouTube?

We all start somewhere.

I’ve been enjoying drawing recently but also sabotaged myself.

I need to take another day off from work to go and see my doctor.

I want to lose weight FAST.

I’ve decided to substitute candy with fruit.

It’s hard playing two mobile games or more consistently.

I want the future now. The good stuff anyway.

I did not vote for Kamala Harris, but I did vote.

Right now (as I’m typing) I have a headache.

I have an additional book to read about writing and I’m worried my writing, prose and poetry is becoming too academic as opposed to just going with the flow, vibing.

Is this, technically prose?

Fin.

VLOG 2

Best Friends Forever

Two days ago I had a dream about my ex.

Which is, fairly normal, right?

There’s no reason, stereotypically, for a man, like me, to make a big deal out of that.

Anyway, what’s up party people in the place to be, it’s ya’boi, Dan the Man, coming at’cha live at the beginning of the month or near it for another HOT BLOG ENTRY. Ya’love to see it.

I’ve been thinking more and more about my predicament with my ex, not being friends and being blocked on everything, and I don’t know why but it hit me that “wait, isn’t that like normal?”

I literally don’t know anyone that’s friends with their ex. Why did I expect to be friends with her for the rest of my life after a break up? We all know where that leads, regrets, affairs, etc. What the fuck was I thinking?

To tell you the truth, I don’t know. It’s not like she was the only girlfriend I’ve ever had, it’s not like she was the only girl I’ve ever been with, far from it, but I suppose I was so hung up on what felt like such a unique circumstance that our bond must be able to stand the test of time.

None of this occurred to me in my years of madness.

I had been avoiding relationships so much, or I had been in such unique, non sequitur love affairs that I had no idea what it meant to be in a “normal” relationship.

Now a few years removed from my terrible twenties I’m entering my 40’s with even more understanding than what I thought was already sufficient.

Yes the voices are still there but so is my medication.

Yes I do sometimes feel like I love her from the bottom of my heart but she hates my guts.

Yes I was rare to meet someone from Norway but wasn’t it just as rare to meet the girls from Sweden, Costa Rica, Bulgaria, South Africa, and other parts of the world?

It boggles the mind sometimes, and surely you’d agree.

Anyway, I’m about to start the fall semester at UMass, somehow I survived the summer, and sometimes I wake up with the feeling that I’m too overwhelmed to continue on this journey, as if it’d be easier to stay where I am for the rest of my days and die a security guard, a doorman, concierge.

That’s not gonna fucking happen...!

A not so thorough analysis of my psychosis

What’s up party people in the place to be?

Me again, as per usual.

The last few weeks have been rough, and in my last blog I talked about dealing with my psychosis/schizo-affective disorder, but I don’t really think I dived into what the voices were saying, how I think about it.

So I want to do that today, because it hasn’t stopped, and if this can be helpful to anyone, I suppose I’d like a record of it.

So, my disorder started back in 2011, and it pretty much started with things I didn’t care about, things I would laugh at. I was attending community college at the time, but the voices were so prevalent and disruptive that I was no able to focus in class.

I had a job, I was a PCA for my great grandfather, when one day the voices started talking about my ex.

My ex, from Norway, wasn’t the first girl I confessed my love to, but for some reason or another (oh I don’t know maybe the fact that we literally travelled to meet up or something, a chance opportunity that never or rarely happens) she was the most significant love of my life. I met her family, she met mine, I was done with dating and other women after I had met her. Of course, the relationship didn’t last, for whatever reason (this is me, talking outside of my disorder and we’ll get there, trust me) and I was forced to date and go out and meet people again. That was the “normal,” “healthy” thing to do at the time, pre-pandemic.

Fast forward to 2017, I go back to school, but during the time my psychosis is talking about my ex, I start a fairly aggressive e-mail campaign, asking her things like “why are the voices in my head talking about you?” “why do they have this information?” “How do they know?”

How could they? They were external, outside of what I consider “my mind” and weren’t my own voice in my head.

Of course, she froze me out, saying she wanted nothing to do with me or my “illusive ranting” and that I would never have any relevance in her future ever again.

So obviously I buy a plane ticket to Norway to talk to her face to face.

That didn’t end up going so well, and I was arrested for 6 weeks.

I always want to get to the bottom of these delusions.

Why my ex?

What does she or this have to do with the genre of music “Black Metal” ?

Why are these voices so obsessed with eating human feces?

Why do they talk about rape so much?

Why is this still happening to me even though I take my medication as prescribed?

Why do they make girls I look at on the street say “I’m a lesbian” as if they’re communicating that to me telepathically?

At first I thought they originated with my insecurities, but growing older, outside of beauty standards I’m fine with who I am.

I’ve seen a number of mental health advocates and people that suffer from what seems a completely different disorder in schizophrenia express themselves online and through art but I think, at least for me, I need like a science lab done. Just something concrete, something grounded in researching this condition.

I don’t “harass” my ex with e-mails anymore. I have a separate blog where I write to her and about what’s happening in my head, but I don’t expect or think she’ll read or respond to it. It’d be nice if she did but that’s looking more and more like a “never gonna happen.” Still, a part of me still has love for her, regardless of all thats happened.

Anyway, this month is her birthday month, the voices in my head say she’s changed her birthday but clearly I don’t know what that day is, so I’ll celebrate her old birthday. And I don’t mean I’ll buy a cake and candles, no, I’ll just end up writing a blog, maybe a poem, because I’m gonna be thinking about it anyway.

I try to escape my mind with as many legal agents as possible but somehow she always comes back to me, my head or my heart. And I’m on dating apps, but like I said on Twitter/X a few nights ago I feel undesirable and me being out of shape while Gym culture is at its peak, I think it’d take A LOT for a woman to look past my beer belly and decide she wanted to hold my head, forget about sex lmao

Anyway, that’s that. I may update this but for now this is what it is, at least the most recent topics that are doing battle with my sanity.

Peace out.

Lost in the Heaven Realm

Like the title of my last blog, I’m going through it.

To make a long story short, the voices in my head keep bringing up my ex girlfriend, among other things, like eating my own feces and suicidal ideation.

What I want to focus on however, is my ex.

I loved her, and in my madness I told her those things and more, mad a complete ass of myself and was arrested for 6 weeks in her home country.

I’m reluctantly looking for a new partner but I honestly don’t want to. I don’t feel like it’s fair to jump into a relationship with these external thoughts, to find myself going through and episode only to explain to a future lover “sorry babe, I’m just thinking about my ex.”

I think what’s worse is that, I know she’s frozen me out and blocked me on all socials, but I still have warm and fuzzy feelings if I think about it for too long.

If I dwell on it, it feels like I could just fall in love all over again.

And yeah I’m falling in love with my memories.

Yeah, I’m falling in love with an idea of her.

I’m present in my own mind and I know that, but still.

I don’t know how I should feel about this. I feel like I’ve felt every emotion I could ever feel and written every word or platitude that I could ever hope to express and still nothing, and yet, my heart keeps loving.

I also hate dating apps. I’m on them but I don’t feel like I’m ready for marriage. I still want to just, have fun, not get too serious but if something serious develops, okay.

But am I really giving it a chance?

Wouldn’t I just be better off alone?

I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.

Anyway.

Going Through It 2.0

What’s up party people in the place to be!

I didn’t like the first blog post I made that discusses the agony I’m currently experiencing.

1. I’m drinking far too many redbulls

2. My psychosis seems to be attacking me on all fronts

Pretty much for the last few weeks or so I’ve been battling the voices in my head, and trying to take the necessary precautions/steps to make sure I don’t do any physical harm to my self or commit suicide.

It’s been tough, but so far, so good.

The voices mostly speak about my ex, and other agents that somehow have been facilitating my psychosis ever since that one night where I got “wAy ToO hIgH” and have been around since, but if you want to read all about it, or at least seem me putting the thoughts out of my head and somewhere else, there’s another blog I keep on this website, simply titled “X.”

Part Deux: Sexuality.

The voices seem really, REALLY hung up on my sexuality. And I’ll just come out and say it, there were a few moments in my terrible twenties when I played for the other team (literally 2 and once I was on 4 different medications) but at the end of the day, I identify as a straight man, and I do not wish nor want to pursue men sexually or romantically. The only romance I want between men is the song and rhythm of the dance of death, between two fists. If you know you know.

San:

Fame VS Fortune.

The voices in my head also make a big hullabaloo about making another “celebrity” from the city of Boston. But it’s this catch all term about being “famous” and not necessarily, an actor, musician, artist, writer, politician, etc. Just a “celebrity.” Like they want me to go in and out in a blaze of glory where I’m supposed to like, randomly attack people on the street and honey, that’s infamy, and believe you and me, earlier in my psychosis I got there, but that’s ultimately not where I want my path of life to lead me.

The one thing I want the most right now is peace and quiet in my mind.

The next thing is 10 billion dollars.

From the River to the Sea homies,

Peace out.

"Interracial"

I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. But I should just come out and say it:

I like white people.

Not every white person in the world but some of the ones I’ve interacted and have had past or present relationships with, not half bad.

I get it however, given American History, I understand how controversial that statement can be coming from a Black man, but also I believe in a more “human” movement, element, collective, and hated white people for the past seems anti-human, especially if some of those same white people want to correct those past actions, laws, stigmas, whatever what have you.

But still, I live in Boston, where people vote liberally, and live conservatively.

There doesn’t seem to be much room in Boston to “swirl,” as they say, or the people that do commingle are doing it as a novel experience, or expect you to know every rap artist by heart and all their lyrics starting with KRS One.

What really got under my skin was this idea of being a “bull” to a cuckold relationship. Because as I get older, and progress on my fitness journey, I may also fall into the area of being fetishized, and chased after by anyone, not because they “love” me or even want to get to know me, but they have a role for me to play for me and my member.

And it sucks to think about, that you’re always the outside man in an otherwise loving relationship, more than a one night stand but who do you hold tight in the middle of the night?

I’m not built for it. I don’t think I am at least, and while I still want to be healthy, strong, and physically fit, I don’t want to just fall into another trap setup by the man to get another brother under the white mans thumb.

A black thread tightly wound around some porcelain finger.

I want love, and while my grandmother goes “there’s got to be a black girl out there for you” I wonder if she’s passed on, and the last thing I said to her, in a fit of psychosis, was “you look like a duck.” Then she quits life. Just my luck.

And I don’t want to marry in my race, just because someone outside my race “wouldn’t get it” and yet, I feel like I have amassed an ample reading list for a serious life partner in the event of wedding bells. Bell Hooks, Franz Fanon, James Baldwin, all that.

It feels tough to navigate, because I want to do what I want, and I don’t want to hear lip from my family.

I want to do what I want, and I don’t want to provide someone with a masterclass on race relations.

I want to do what I want, and love who I love, without some chip on my shoulder thinking I’ll keep some Nubian Goddess on the side for when things get tough.

It all feels unfair and unsustainable.

And here I am, dating Palmela Anderson, watching women that aren’t black, because I feel like Black women shouldn’t be in these skin flicks.

Ain’t that a bitch.

For now I’m single, I’m not even dating. I’m on apps but I frequently get timed out for inactivity.

If you read my other blog it sounds like I just want to get back with my ex, but that doesn’t seem like it’s happening ever, so I’m playing the flute and tenderizing beef all at once.

Anyway, I don’t want to date exclusively any race, love should be free, and blind to skin color, if you ask me.

Yeah, we live in America, it’s a hard pill to swallow, and no one likes a passport bro, but if these feelings mean I have to emigrate to Europe or something God fucking Help Me.

Liberation

From the river to the sea…

On my Instagram account @yahomied I created a highlight on the profile page featuring the flag of Palestine 🇵🇸. There you can interact with those stories to find places and charities to donate to, to help the people and children of Palestine. I will try to update it and keep it current as I get information.

And while we’re talking about Palestine, we can’t forget about Tigray, Congo, and all other displaced peoples fighting for liberation all over the world.

What this terrible time has taught me, after all the unlearning and scraping away my callous world view, is that while this is hard for me, it does not compare to how hard it is for the people living this nightmare.

I can barely comprehend it, I can’t even donate money myself because I’m trying to make ends meet but as I scrape together stories and campaigns and pledges I expose myself to the horror and violence of the world, the same horror and violence you read in history books, the same horror and violence you’d think we’re left behind in those same history books.

Like is this really the mark of a first world country? To disenfranchise as many people, even its own for the possibility of a larger bank statement? On dwindling resources that many in power right now won’t live to benefit from? To create a world so impoverished of its former abundance and yet expect a future generation to maintain its rape and destruction?

It boggles the mind.

Like I’m considering starting up therapy again just to talk about Palestine, I mean anywhere you look on social media you see a slice of it, how could this be ignored?

AND THEN THE CONGO!

Basically if you have an electric device you’ve benefitted off of the pillaging of the Congo.

How the fuck are you supposed to digest that?

Like it’s great that I’ve opened up and become a bit more empathetic for my fellow man even those flying a different colored flag but how do I attribute for my powerlessness as I watch the war machines death march through lands that were better off left alone?

Just confusion and angst are all I’m feeling, as I watch corpses juxtapose against memes and nihilistic comedy on social media.

I am not a proud American, and with the knowledge I have now I don’t know if I ever will be.

Bravery

From the River to the Sea.

I’m back in Boston after a hectic 48 hours quickly traveling to and from Virginia for my mother’s birthday.

I really appreciate her husband for doing his damndest to treat her with all the love and respect he thinks she deserves and more, she was very happy, and surprised that myself and my brother happened to be there, it was a lovely affair and she’s still celebrating today.

I think about my own relationships, as they are high school sweethearts, and I seem to be some thirty something year old that has a problem with his hygiene. Of course, now as I type I remember someone showed me a cousin of there’s that got married in their 40’s, and how I’m living now does not have to be the end all be all, this is just temporary.

I want to comment on the Israel and Palestine conflict, about the student encampments, but I feel like I don’t have anything of meaning to say, nothing to say that will help the student activists, who I wholeheartedly stand behind.

It’s strange to me to see people I know, so passionately against the status qu and big government, but so dispossessed as to be more apathetic to the cause than to support it, or anything for that matter.

All I know is that we must try our best, yet some of my “solutions” I think bring more harm than good.

Anyway!