I want to find Ways to Reverse Reductive Thoughts, formerly How to Race Reducing Thoughts

In order to turn off a racing mind, you have to deny it the fuel it needs to start spinning in the dark. 

LAST

More Real Times to Have and to Hold Onto

I began about ten seconds ago.

I began about ten minutes ago, too.

I guess nothing can ever be done.

Or do I just want to excuse myself from following through?

I mean that nothing is ever perfect, except God. In a way, everything is perfect always.

But I guess some things can only be done once and there is nothing more to try to perfect.

For example, if I chop a log and the axe goes right through and it's a clean cut... that's pretty perfect. There is a range of cuts and sizes of wood that would all be equally useful for firewood.

And I kiss a 26 year old female human with pale skin and black hair.

I like her. She likes astronomy.

I like suicide notes, but not suicide or suicidal thoughts or feelings.

By "feelings" I meant suicidal feelings, but now I mean all feelings.



The feeling of joy that I get from insights is incidental, unintended, and corruptable. It's nice, joy is. But it is not necessary. Aaron said nothing but the Trinity is necessary. Feelings are not as valuable as words or insights. Feelings are inevitable, but life would be fine if they were gone somehow. But life would not be life without feelings. 



There are happy and sad bacteria floating in the ocean.

I feel good that I am home alone with very few responsibilities.... there are too many 'i's in 'responsibilities', but I like it.

It's quiet here. 

Peaceful.

I think I should read Music That Is Soundless, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Marcus Aurelius's Meditations, or Crime and Punishment. I don't want to read right now, but I do want to read at least three more pages of Crime and Punishment today, and I want to read more of Alice today. I want to read the other two, but not anytime soon, because I feel uncomfortable trying to read most of the time, and those books are more difficult to read.

Classic pain and gain.

Big muscle boobs.

I watched about an hour of the Royal Tenenbaums this morning.

I really love it.

I don't want to talk to Aaron, because it is difficult. I don't even want to listen to him.

I want to descibe this feeling.

It's uneasy, maybe queasy, cold and hot, shaky, face hurting, clammy, sticky, tastes bad and smells bad, like rotten vegetables, or pee, or really bad tomato sauce, feel like something will rip and sting and bleed.



That might be the main reason feelings can be bad: I can feel any feeling for any reason, or for no reason. They should not be trusted. They must be felt, but they should be subject to reason, and they should not determine choices that people make. I guess they usually have to affect what people do, because they are integral to being human. 



I believe people should try to be healthy and try to help themselves reach their positive potential.

One should first try to help oneself, then as many other people as possible. 

Maybe every human or every family should have a fertile peaceful acre of land. Maybe an average of two people per acre.

Maybe there will be 8 billion people by 2020.

We'll need 4 billion acres. That should be about half of the arable earth.

People will go to their acres by plane or boat or train or road.



Everyone will live by the same rules:

- Always get permission from anyone affected by anything you do, before you do it. Or at least be reasonably certain that the effect will be positive.

- Do not do anything if you think anyone will probably be negatively affected by it.

- Try to do something that will perfect the world, including yourself.

That is all that needs to be done.



I imagine a beautiful family playing frisbee at the local park, 3,000 years from now, in 5,016 A.D. They love Jesus. Mom, Dad, a boy named Junus, and a girl named Rew. 

Dad paints everything. Mom designs government websites. Junus wants to explore the ocean. Rew wants to fix human brains.

They eat a type of pasta that is perfectly healthy. During the night two tormadoes pass through town, but only ten trees and three shrubs are damaged. 

. . . I have to type this - no, I don't :  . . . Rew is 16 years old now. A boy named Fooden comes to her house after Rew says it's okay. Her family is away from 4:15 to 9:00 in the evening. She and Fooden watch TV, cook and eat a frozen pizza . . . . Of course, Rew does not enjoy anything about it, except sharing the experience and the fact that it is probably the best time of Fooden's life so far.

Young but not too Young

7. 8.

Tim dropped me off at Bastrop High at 8:44 a.m. on May 15th, 2006 a.d. Monday. Sitting in his blue Chevy Cobalt and in his blue plaid pajama pants, he said, "See ya later," and drove back home or wherever he went. I wore hand-me-down faded blue jeans and a dark striped button up shirt. There was a bleeding sore between my legs. There was another sore that was not bleeding somewhere else between my legs.

So, I walked slowly and awkwardly into the main building to my first period. I saw Jaime and Charles in the halls. Jaime said, "Hey, Big Greg, how's it hangin'?" I did a little smile thing, lifted a hand toward him, and said quietly, "Heey." Charles looked at me, made a wide thin mouth, and tipped his head back in recognition. I smiled and waved quickly. My mom was Asian.

Some people tied an American flag around the statue of our leader outside. Outside was grey and windy. The high school was built in 1909, making it 63 years old.

In the classroom, I sat 6 feet away from Katy. She wore a vintage white dress. She looked like an American Girl doll. Her hair was blonde like the sun at noon. My feet were very sweaty. When I was not staring at my desk or the floor, I glanced at Katy. Our eyes met 11 times during that class. My eyes green, her eyes blue. In the wild southeastern section of the county, a wildfire had burned over 42 acres and counting.

8. 9.

Katy walked nicely to the foootbaaal field. I walked to the railroad crossing by the field and sat on the eastern rail.
Jim and Chuck ate two burritos each outside the lunch hall.
There were two crowds on the through street, one by the lunch hall, one by the band hall. The day was sunny.
All the old kids wore new clothes, like dancing pants and school spirit hoodies.
I scratched my butt cheek, thought about my bleeding holes, and almost cried.
Katy waved to me from 55 yards away, and I imagined ejaculating on empty black space.

The day became very warm, 88 degrees Fahrenheit. I saw Julio and Adrienne holding hands while they walked to 3rd period. The train came so I got up and went into the main halls. I was sweating a lot in my deep spots. I saw Ashley and Diane talking and giggling, and I accidentally smiled. We all avoided each other, sanely. Mr. Wubbush called out to the horde of students, "All right, guys, get to class now or go home!!" I thought about calculus, and I understood nothing about it, except that it exists.

"I went like fuckin' 45 minutes without seein' a monster... and I was like Ohmyfuckin'god, so I skipped to level 8... did you see Bowser's tail at the end of that cut scene like right before you get to the Koopa fortress? ... Anyway I was like fuckin' nigga BAM, and he died like right away, obviously... I had like 50 thousand coins, then my fuckin' stupid ass brother saved over my fuckin' file!"

I looked at some other strange kids in front of the building, voices drifting. My shoulders got sore from my backpack straps. A worker guy walked around the edges of the parking lot, blowing leaves. I held a copy of Doing Yourself by R. H. Lipsky that I found on Mom's forgotten bookcase. I flipped it over and looked at the back cover again; I hadn't read the whole cover or a whole page; I just let my eyes jump around. Katy came out of the front doors and walked up to me. Looking up, I noticed all the dark smoke in the southern sky.
"Hi, Gregory. Whatcha doin'," she grinned.
"Uhh... nothin'," I tried to force my face into a relaxed, natural, and pleasing expression.
"Yeah... Looks like it's a-gonna rain, huh!?"
I was scared. I said, "I dunno. Maybe."
She sat down on the other end of the stone bench. "Hm..." she said. "So, what's that?," gesturing to the Lipsky.
"Um, just some psychology kinda book from a long time ago." The pages were dark yellow.
"Is it good?"
"Um, I don't know. I haven't read much."
"Great... Hmmm. Let me know what happens..." She squinted tightly, shivered and shook herself. I breathed deeply. My jaw clenched; my head began to ache.
"Ah... You look like you use the computer a lot. You do, right?" said Katy.
"Uh... I guess so..." I swallowed spit. My sinuses tingled; my cheeks warmed.
After an almost ten second silence, she blurted, "I am totally failing history this year."
"... Ah... damn."
"Yeah... it fuckin' sucks real shit."
I looked up from her shoes to her face. She wore a wild and confused smile. She stared at one spot on the concrete. I smiled sincerely, in rapture. She looked at my face. Her brow unfurrowed; her eyes brightened. I mimicked her. We laughed faintly through our noses. Tim pulled up on the driveway. I said to no one, "I gotta go." I stood and moved toward the car.
"Bye, Gregory!" She waved emphatically. I turned my head, looking at nothing, and raised my right hand to her.
"Bye, Katy."

9. 10.

AlphaBetiCalLy Supportive

Apples belong.
Beta carotene.
Compact decision.
Deluge emerging.
Every fuck.
Fucking god.
Gold hero.
Heaven's iglesia.
I joke.
Just Kiddo.
Killing Libedos.
Lasting Moral.
Messy Nomenclature.
Noble Object.
Omniscient Persuader.
Practical Quest.
Quiet Remembrance.
Real science.
Scalding tea.
Treasonous utilitarian.
Untimely vacancy.
Venerated widow.
Wild xylophone.
Xanadu's youth.
You're zeroing.
Zephyrs arise.

                                                    Goodnight, mo.
I am wearing underwear.
I am the CEO of 500 fortune 500 countries.

                 If his head is crunchy and her genitals (and all of her internal reproductive organs (the function of Life (her whole human body) is to reproduce itself)) are as soft and smooth as warm, pure water, then I can relax at 4:38 pm, while Dinosaur Jr. plays from the car speakers, broadcast by KUTX, as I am leaving Bastrop, TX, driving my mom's car back to my apartment in Austin; my mother and I are going to a Thai restaurant to meet family to acknowledge my brother Patrick's 33rd birthday; it's election night, 2016, and I'm watching Live NBC coverage on Youtube on my TV and listening to the album Acapulco by Cribshitter, and I drank 2 mugs of Malbec; OK, now I'm done.

Happy USA Write-Away

I wrote away my days like a nihilist;
I rode supersonic waves that science missed.

Popular demand produced a chaos fetish;
Unable to stand, I became an otter fish.

Hellish water cycles and other worldly maps
Expunged our ubiquitous Navy Garden chaps.

Artichoke Fever Month had me gasping for light;
I wound up sleeping at my neighbor's overnight.

In-No-cent, dumb, naive, foolish, idiote-Que,
All the ways of being Happy in the USA.

+

Most mornings I think yesterday was Baghdad.
I walk on tepid streets wond'ring if Gal-a-had.
I used to be a woman, but now they run me monad.

The End

Music. Numbers.
Fire. Brothers.
It's night time.
The death of my mind.

It's early enough to lie in bed.
It's cold enough to keep my eyes closed.
Strings. Strains.
I rub my cheek on the pillow case.

Words printed on pages,
torn to unreadable pieces,
laid in the trash,
yyiuiyttm,kulfytsd /   ?G:

All rite, break time

you prove to your promise

hands dig through gross pre-soil

oh you're out of time, Stand up, Leave the walls.

10/27/16 ... late internet What...

our beauty son, Dairy

I don't carrot a Michigan saddle horse

Rock and Roll Spaceship (Song)

Slow Verse 1:

Rock and roll spaceship,
the moon is your bitch.

You look like a Neptune
with pizza for lips.

Slow Verse 2:

A Siamese kitchen,
a carpet of grass,

slimy potatoes,
a bowl full of laughs

Slower Chorus:

Run away from
your fundamental cares

Sleep under
the harrowing stairs

Blissdoubt

These people were 4 years old in 1994. They were named Ashley Oney, Gregory Wredberg, and Kimberly Boike. They were also given middle names. They had dirty blond and brown-dirt, dry clean hairs. They had many skin colors each, different from each other, from the light Crayolas, beige and brown, like northern summer tree bark.

Now this must be shared: They went to at least 3 of Montreal concerts, I don't remember exactly.
I don't exactly remember if Greg imagined fucking Kim or Ashley, or kissing them... but now I am almost certain He did, eventually, the Porn of his childhood.

Kevin Barns were Very Sexy. I got little boners. I got Italian Red Wine. Greg and Kim went on a few romantic dates, but Kim moved on, but they were still friends, and Greg hung out with Ashley more than any other non-family member, and he thinks he may have loved her, however inactively.
They were Many Movies and Music. They were Schools and Jobs at Businesses. Trees and Concrete were everywhere, Goddamn blue skies, Big Biutiful Grey Clouds.
Whatever, Suck your balls.
We played a game, and we dreamed.
I hate every thought that I thought about.
I drank 8 Liters of Water,
Holy Austin, Blissful Bastrop,
doin' sex with 16 year-old white trash girls. Too-expensive suburban homes,
WOW, Two parents, Goddamn Brothers,
EWW, Desktops and Laptops,
The Fucking Internet Especially Youtube

Then they all left, there they were.
An asphalt road 300 miles long, 300 turns and veers and exits, 3,000 days. 3 little poor dumb people, I said to them. How about Hallelujah at the high school's littlest gymnasium;
A foolish regurgitation of fallow memories, doin' drugs alone, havin' sex with primitive electronic technology.
Ashley, Greg, and Kim met again at their 10 year high school reunion. Only one chunky clunky kid committed himself to suicide in the dark recess at middle school, bloody brick trails to your Generation Eroding Plastic. Growth on the Air of Abiding Cooks and Faithful Gardeners.