Who are you?

Not as long as you need me

Pac: You already told me this.
Me: I did? Sorry, I’m forgetting a ton of things.
Him: What is wrong with you?
Me: Well, insomnia, a possible concussion, lots of pharmaceuticals and general feelings of pain and loss. I’m actively trying to forget things and people and sometimes other things get caught up.
Him: Great, now I feel bad for saying anything.

Recently made a channel on YouTube for Paxibellum and got a call from one of the producers of Scenic Fights. Evidently, I did a number of things he wasn’t happy about but mainly…I did it twice.

Him: …AND you uploaded the videos twice to each channel!
Me: I did it in my insomnia phase so I’ll take them down. Sorry.

Evidently, Sleepy Logan’s back. It also appears that he’s on a health food kick because there are half-a-dozen avocados, and two large containers of salads in my fridge that I have zero recollection of getting.

MIL: I bought toys for him. You told me you got them and put them away.
Me: Mom, I hid them so well, that I forget everything about them.

Chad’s been telling me to get an MRI and I really struggled with whether or not to do it but I ultimately decided that there’s nothing to be done.

Let’s say, arguendo, that I do have a concussion, what is there to do but wait and see how everything shakes out?

Plus, I’ve been to every fucking brain MRI joint in this goddamn city. I know what they all smell and sound like. I will literally walk in the door and projectile vomit.

Chad also thinks I should get one on my wrist, shoulder, and neck since all three are pretty messed up. Those I’m still considering.

The wrist one bothers me the most because, who/what am I if I can’t hold a sword again? Because, in my head, I’m a swordsman.

That’s how I define myself to myself.

I’m living in waking dreams again; remembering things from possible pasts again.

Him: You know the difference between the devil and a demon?
Me: No, tell me.
Him: The devil is a creation of god himself. He exists because god allows him to exist. But a demon is a god. It’s what the Judeo-Christians called any old god that existed prior to their god. So that’s why the devil looks like Pan, an old Roman god.
Me: So you believe in god?
Him: I believe God is an asshole. He has nothing to do with me, and I have nothing to do with him.

Always found it somewhat poetic that demons are our old gods. The things we used to worship in the past, torment us in the present.

Speaking of torment, both the kid and I getting nightmares for some reason.

Him: Sorry to wake you. I’m worried there are snakes in my room.
Me: Dude, there are no snakes in Manhattan. If you’re gonna worry about something, worry about flooding, which is an actual issue.
Him: (eyes widening in horror) We might flood again!?
Me: (fuuuuuuuuuccckkk…)

In any case, before Alison, my old gods were various pharmaceuticals and late night excursions. But she became my new god and my old gods faded away.

But I lost her and found other new gods. Then I lost those new gods as well

I honestly wonder if I made one up completely or if she was real. Told you once that my insomnia means that I can even remember things that never happened, people that never existed.

Coupled with a possible concussion, I’m lucky I remember my own name these days. And my old gods/demons are back as if they never left, even though the devil has.

Then again, I have one shiny new god I adore in the form of a tiny human.

Him: Halloween was last week! You mean, “See them for Thanksgiving!?”
Me: I said, “Halloween?”
Him: Yes! You’re being silly, papa!
Me: So, I am. It’s time for bed.
Him: (quietly) Don’t go. Please. I’m scared.
Me: What are you afraid of?
Him: I don’t know. (thinking) What if you’re not here when I wake up?
Me: Why would you think that?
Him: [People leave].
Me: Not me. I won’t leave you. Not as long as you need me.

Location: home with the kid and Sleepy Logan
Mood: fuzzy
Music: I really wanna know, who the fuck are you? (Spotify)
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