Klonopin Isn’t Helping Me Sleep Anymore

Seriously. What time is it? I’m having this back and forth about an image file for an art show flyer…and worrying about it not being ok. Not content wise, but technically. Too low res. Too dense. Tooooo…

The notion of haters, hate mail, online harassment and the like seem to be recurring a lot these days. Not just for myself (though I’ve gotten some grief from some bottomfeeders of late), but amongst other people I know too. Usually for having the temerity to make music, or art, or blogs…essentially put themselves out there. I considered writing a little more in-depth, exploring it as a topic, but like that old clouds-in-the-coffee song went, there are probably some arrogant fucks out there who will think it’s specifically about them.

Mostly damn, I want to be able to share this incredible flyer my friend is making for the art show! Patience, patience, patience. Patience doesn’t always come easily to former inpatients. Or maybe that’s just me.

Klonopin (or should I say it’s generic, Clonazepam. I applaud O-care for what’s it’s accomplished, but I’m not expecting it to shell out for brand-name benzos anytime soon.) does keep me calmer than I used to be, which is probably relative, depending on how passive and indifferent the next person is. It’s no longer giving me that feeling of the world being a soft foamy lather I’m costing through. That’s kind of a shame.

I’ve made it through an entire 3 hour reggae program.

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