Bizarre day.

By DocBrock · May 8, 2012 ·
  1. DocBrock
    I thought I'd been lucid all day.
    Zonked out.
    Firelocked. Couldn't move from afront the fire. All day?
    I should have skin like pork rind in that heat, yet I've felt cold all day. I've had worse actual lucid days, so meh really.
    Jost lost a day is all.
    No biggie, just a dream as a real memory. Err, wow!.
    That isn't safe to me. That is scary.
    Memory dump of silly, old, outdated design co-pro had me trying to get any enthusiasm for what was, a dead idea. Fuck. That was so real. So safe an idea or memory brought forth so quickly cannot be stable + fuck, there it goes. An ARM chip co-pro capable of running RISC/OS in it's own right, or linux.
    Ahh, there it goes. Not stable. Lasting happy memory though of prototype 186 board lashed screaming to a BBC Master whose disk I/O rates weren't that good at the time, frankly. It did work though.
    Odd happy snippets from waay back keep flashing back. Always happy though, so I'm not complaining. It just adds to being an odd day
    Merlin X-ASM to 6502 target. Magic.
    If anyone does get that reference, please go outside and sit on the geeky step. I must unremember.
    Bizarre day.
    Very geeky.
    Shit, farting about with radios. That goes waay back. I'd forgotten it. It didn't used to be such an offence to listen in on certain broadcasts, or sit there frantically trying to decode morse in your head or recording it for later transcription.
    I think they get very snotty now. Does anyone still use encoded morse?
    Odd thought train.
    Seroquel is wierd shit. Benzo taper shot to fuck as visibly shaking now without it.
    Missed call from psyche nurse. Damn. I need her right here, right now with a dictaphone. If nothing else, there's a fucking good screenplay in there.
    One moment of major headrush into a high contrast clarity later, then 10 mins before I could type this.
    Holee fook. I should timestamp this. May be a bit of a trip report.
    2 minutes. Bloody hell, time has gone silly again. Here goes the 12 hour psyche sessions in a minute, followed by gormless drooling and wanting a smoke.
    Appear to be looping.
    Odd thoughts. Am suddenly missing 35mm film.
    I always did like printing. Very soothing. Could hardly be arsed to go look for pictures, but I'd quite happily print all day.
    That was an hour. No, that was 5 minutes of your meaningless internal diatribe.
    Wonder if. Not sure what the fuck wondering about.
    OK, seroquel are officially creeping me out now. Anti-psychotic?, fuckin' hell!, they’ll drive me there.

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