It’s late, and I’m the only one in the common room at the moment. I’m about to squeeze into Emily’s room and retire there for the night, but my head is zinging. My energy levels lately are far in advance of what they’ve ever been. It’s not exactly ideal for me right now. The walls in this place are starting to close in on me with an awful smothering sting. I crave so badly to step outside into the cool night air, with a cup of coffee, and gaze up at the stars. Man, I would kill for a cup of coffee right now. It’s been awhile. I am thoroughly sick of drinking water at this point. There’s just no zip to it. If I could just have one hot steaming cup of Starbucks or a Dunkins’ right now it would be utter bliss. Even better, would be to have a smoke to go along with it. I haven’t burned one in quite a while, but I sure do miss it. I realize it’s bad for my health, but still.
Although, since I’ve been cigarette-less, I’ve noticed my olfactory sense has returned with a force. It’s not so wonderful a thing when Rudy is in the room, but when he's not, it's great. I forgot how powerful the sense of smell is for us people. It truly enriches the experience of being alive and stimulates a lot of good memories. Of course, I'm hungry a lot of the time now too, and in this place, being hungry is a form of torture. Anyway, I don’t want to ramble about smoking, there’s lots of things to cover.
I have a lot to report.
Yesterday they let us into the courtyard to get some exercise, and while we were out there, they were kind enough to bring in a cleaning crew to spiff the place up for us. They also washed all of our dirty laundry which is nice because I only brought enough socks, underwear and casual wear for a week. I’ve actually been having to free-ball around here in my sweats and hand wash my socks for the past few days. Makes me wonder how they reacted to Rudy's underwear... my God, can you imagine?
Speaking of the Devil, the most amazing and breaking news today is something that baffles my mind even as I sit and write this. Are you ready?
Rudy took a shower.
It’s crazy right? It’s not, “two kinds of cheese on the cheeseburger crazy,” but it’s out there, and if that’s not enough, he also got his fat head shaved. He looks semi-decent now, still ugly as sin, but much, much better. I imagine they had to call in a hazmat crew to dispose of that hair, because that shit looked fucking poisonous. I would never have thought that the guy could, or would clean up, but he did. The space we’re all confined to has finally ceased smelling like ass and feet, glory hallelujah. So, today, I’m happy to have my full sense of smell returned to me.
At first, I thought the doctors had forced Rudy to clean up against his will, but then Lynette told me last night that he requested it. When I asked her what happened, she said that he approached her and wanted to know who he could talk to about getting a haircut. Lynette was a little taken-aback because the last interaction she had with him, she had scolded him to “fuck off and go wash his ass.” I had no idea Lynette possessed such courage, but then again, she’s a mother of three kids and she doesn’t take anyone’s shit.
On to other news, I’ve been reading like a fiend lately.
At first, it was extremely difficult for me. I’ve mentioned before that I haven’t read a book in over twenty years if you recall. The problem that I’ve faced is I’d crack open a book, start to read it and then get fed up and sleepy. My mind would never let me focus on what I was reading, and I would have trouble keeping up with the written text. After much introspection about this glitch, I decided to place markers on every moment I could feel my energy being sapped and I found the problem.
I discovered that I didn’t know how to read. No shit, man. That may sound utterly implausible, but it’s true. I lacked understanding of the most basic component to comprehension; words. I didn’t understand many of the words, most of them I did yes, but so many others I did not. You ever hear that expression, “it’s all Greek to me?” It’s all right there. I didn’t understand the countless varying definitions of numerous words that I came across, and it symbolically became like reading a foreign language. It’s logical to me now. For instance, if you don’t understand what a “spoon” is, how could you then read the sentence, “He used a spoon to dig his way out of prison?” At first you can understand that a spoon must be something that digs, but without knowing what a spoon is, or what one looks like, it creates a terrible strain on the mind. You try to read past this sentence, but your brain is still using energy, attempting to manifest a meaning for the word spoon. So many fucking authors write books using the biggest words they know, and it just loses people, like it lost me. So, the solution of course is to learn as many words as possible and reading becomes pleasurable.
It’s all very technical as well, and I’ll explain this from an electronics perspective, because it’s one of the first books I read from the bookshelf. I should also mention, that my “superpowers” have enabled me to shift my sight into my own body. It’s weird, I can watch my heart beat, look at what my lungs are doing, and if I want, I can hitch a ride with some corpuscles (blood cells) and surf through my bloodstream. Crazy-fucking-shit. So, I visually inserted myself into my neural-network and watched as energy cycled to and fro all about my brain. It was kind of amazing. There is a galaxy of communication lines in the brain, that when seen as a pure light, stand as beautiful as anything you’ve ever seen. When I did this, I observed that the neurons (nerve cells) firing away their miniscule electrical impulses would instantly and always falter when the misinterpreted word was introduced. That phenomenon created a distension (expansion) of the dendrites (short branches of a nerve cell which conduct impulses) and caused the existent flow of energy to become clogged at the synapse (point where two nerve cells join) and bind up the brain’s electrical stream. It was like a neural traffic jam of sorts and caused a cerebral wave interference to occur. Can you say headache? Now, doctors might have a better understanding of where most headaches come from and can start prescribing dictionaries as cures.
As an easy explanation of the above, take your two fists and press them against each other and push. That’s what’s happening when you read past words that are cryptic to the mind. Your consciousness wants to go forward through the book; your reason wants to understand what a spoon is and comes back. Get it?
This singularity (something remarkable or unusual) rippled into a total body effect for me whereby my central nervous system became bogged, circulation slowed, and I yawned. I fought for air because oxygen was being deprived in the chaos, and the brain needed to jump start itself to resume its natural cycle. That’s what yawning is; it’s the inflow of oxygen, to kick start a drained brain and body. This is the brain’s failsafe system to the stuck energy that overflows in one area for too long. If you continue reading past this biological circuit breaker, you’ll either fall asleep or build up a pretty good headache. Apparently, a good night’s sleep or a cup of black coffee will get some of the energy back on track, but why bother when you can define the word, “spoon” in just a minute? It also helps to have a picture because the mind doesn’t think using text, but images rather.
It has caused me to sit down over the last few days and read the entirety of the dictionary. Now I can scream through books, and it’s opened my mind up to unlimited ideas and possibilities. I probably should have mentioned this earlier to Dr. Nelson, that my memory is now somewhat photographic. I can remember things quite easily, simply by using my imagination to re-experience any occurrence of my past.
Enough on that however, I want to talk about more pressing matters.
Emily brought up the “M” word this morning in bed. You know as in… marriage. I know exactly what the word means, but it still caused me to have a mental reaction. I won’t say I’m against the idea, but I was completely surprised that she would be willing to move so fast. Probably a little too fast, but then didn’t Romeo and Juliet fall madly in love on the first night they met? That’s probably a bad comparison, very tragic story. She told me this morning while we were lying on her cot, holding hands like little teenage kids, and talking about what happens after all of this...
I said, “We could find ourselves a little apartment somewhere outside of Boston maybe. I could get a job and you could go to school or whatever you want.”
“Let’s just get married,” she replies.
I answered with, “Oh yeah that’s a great idea,” thinking she was kidding around.
Then she said, “No, really, why not?”
“Don’t toy with my emotions, I’m already fucked as it is,” I said sitting up.
“I wouldn’t ever toy with your emotions Jack. I would see you rise to the highest pleasures.”
I had to pause on that one before I answered. "You truly are a changed woman,” I said while resting back on my side. We stared into each other’s eyes and held there for many moments, speaking without saying a word. Then I said, “I’ll have to think about it.” She punched me a good one in the shoulder, and we both laughed.
It’s strange to me that in just less than a week I could have made such a bond with a girl who I absolutely hated the week before. People can change though… I mean just look at me. I waltzed in here with a one-track mind and just plain loony for money. Now I’m growing to understand the bigger and better things in life. People. Relationships are all that really matter, and if Emily and I are so close to each other after this short amount of time then why wouldn’t I want to marry her? It makes the walls of this place even more constricting just realizing that outside of them is a new world. A world where Emily and I can live and grow old together, maybe have kids, who knows. As long as we’re stuck here though, under the scrutiny of a potentially life-threatening organization like the CIA… Shit, I don’t want to depress myself delving into this line of thinking. Let’s move on to something different then.
I’ve got the basic skinny on the Asshole Squad, thanks to Jeff. So far, he’s determined that they don’t like me because, “I’m the asshole.” I have no idea why they would conclude that about me, but according to Jeff, they think I walk around the joint like I own the place, that I’m arrogant or something, and I presume that I’m better than everyone else. There also seems to be a bit of jealousy on account of the fact that I have gained the affections of Emily. The sales guy and the construction dude, often commented in Jeff’s presence about the absurdity of, “A hot bitch like her going for a loser like me.”
I don’t fucking know, it seems awfully damn petty to harbor this kind of bullshit with all that’s gone on in here lately. If these idiots had any idea what the fuck was really transpiring in this place they’d change their shitty tune in a hurry.
Here is the breakdown for the crew, Walter, Kyle, Amanda, Frank, and Chester.
Walter is mid-40s, thickset, gray crew-cut hairstyle, and looks like one of those guys that likes fishing for barflies in run-down pubs. He’s an out-of-work contractor who pulled a lot of labor on the Big Dig in Boston back in the day, but since its completion hasn’t found any decent or sustainable jobs. He’s had a tough time dealing with the insanity here and has mentioned several times to Jeff that’s if he can’t get his hands on a Budweiser, he’s going to strong-arm his way out of here.
Kyle is a younger guy, about Jeff’s age. Shoulder length black hair, a goatee and a “666” tattoo right on the back of his neck. He was the drummer in some metal band called “Flaming Riot” in college and got pretty heavy into drugs. He got hooked on crystal meth and decided he needed to clean up but couldn’t afford to, so he volunteered here. A lot of fucking sense that makes; you want to get off drugs, so you sign up for a drug trial? Kyle is a pretty miserable bastard according to my burnt-out friend and apparently, he talks about the twisted idea of burning the place down when he’s angry. Jeff says unfortunately, lots of things make him angry… good thing they don’t give us matches.
Amanda looks like the chubby version of Michael Rooker. She wears her hair short and thinks of herself as one of the guys. She constantly pisses and moans about the fact that they can’t get a square meal and thinks there’s going to be a pretty good chance for a mega lawsuit when this is all over. I would love to remind her that she signed paperwork that prevents that exact thing from happening. She never told Jeff what she used to do, but he gets the idea she could be ex-military based on the way she replies to everything with, “Negative,” “Affirmative” and “Roger that.” She hasn’t expressed any resentment towards me specifically, but refers to Emily as, “The little Barbie doll cunt.” It makes me think about how happy I am to have gotten the mother I got… fuck.
Frank is the only Asian here, wears these super thick glasses and never talks. Remember I told you about him in the shower? I haven’t spoken to him since, but I’m meaning to. For now, he just nods at everyone and submissively cowers in fear when people encroach his space. Jeff has no other info about him.
Chester, or Chuck as he likes people to call him is the apparent ringleader of the group. He’s a little older than I am and talks to people like some kind of used car salesman. His hair is always perfectly combed forward and then a little dip up at the hairline. He has this annoying grin that reveals some pretty decent choppers. Jeff says Chester’s personality is incredibly fake and over cloying. He apparently ran his own children’s talent agency, but it got shut down due to a loss of funding. Chuck was particularly interested to find out about me from Jeff. Asking tons of questions about my past and what the status of Emily and I’s relationship was. Jeff, the smart boy he is, pretty much told him jack shit.
So that’s the cake on those fools. Jeff didn’t discover any daring escape plans or secret ideas, but he’s only recently joined the group. So, hopefully there will be more info tonight.
Lastly and very strangely, Dr. Nelson pulled me aside earlier today after the dosing and told me that he secretly had the Formula 35C tested at a private chem lab. He apparently has a lot of science geek friends and one of his old colleagues called him back with shocking results.
Every element found in Formula 35C is entirely alien and not of this earth.
This idea caused me to scratch my head, and now I’m possibly more worried than ever. I get these images of Area 51 and those elongated alien bodies that are “supposedly” kept there. How deep is the CIA into paranormal/extraterrestrial type activity? Is any of that shit real? I have to concede that the possibility is very high on account of my own gained abilities, and now I wonder at many things about this world. Having no clear understanding of the matter at the time he informed me of this, I decided to ask him why the fuck he wouldn’t discontinue the dosages and let the experiment fizzle out?
According to him, that would be highly dangerous based on the lack of data. He invited me to visualize what stopping a heroin junky from his next fix would do to his mind and body if done too suddenly.
I get the point. Fuck.
-Jack
Although, since I’ve been cigarette-less, I’ve noticed my olfactory sense has returned with a force. It’s not so wonderful a thing when Rudy is in the room, but when he's not, it's great. I forgot how powerful the sense of smell is for us people. It truly enriches the experience of being alive and stimulates a lot of good memories. Of course, I'm hungry a lot of the time now too, and in this place, being hungry is a form of torture. Anyway, I don’t want to ramble about smoking, there’s lots of things to cover.
I have a lot to report.
Yesterday they let us into the courtyard to get some exercise, and while we were out there, they were kind enough to bring in a cleaning crew to spiff the place up for us. They also washed all of our dirty laundry which is nice because I only brought enough socks, underwear and casual wear for a week. I’ve actually been having to free-ball around here in my sweats and hand wash my socks for the past few days. Makes me wonder how they reacted to Rudy's underwear... my God, can you imagine?
Speaking of the Devil, the most amazing and breaking news today is something that baffles my mind even as I sit and write this. Are you ready?
Rudy took a shower.
It’s crazy right? It’s not, “two kinds of cheese on the cheeseburger crazy,” but it’s out there, and if that’s not enough, he also got his fat head shaved. He looks semi-decent now, still ugly as sin, but much, much better. I imagine they had to call in a hazmat crew to dispose of that hair, because that shit looked fucking poisonous. I would never have thought that the guy could, or would clean up, but he did. The space we’re all confined to has finally ceased smelling like ass and feet, glory hallelujah. So, today, I’m happy to have my full sense of smell returned to me.
At first, I thought the doctors had forced Rudy to clean up against his will, but then Lynette told me last night that he requested it. When I asked her what happened, she said that he approached her and wanted to know who he could talk to about getting a haircut. Lynette was a little taken-aback because the last interaction she had with him, she had scolded him to “fuck off and go wash his ass.” I had no idea Lynette possessed such courage, but then again, she’s a mother of three kids and she doesn’t take anyone’s shit.
On to other news, I’ve been reading like a fiend lately.
At first, it was extremely difficult for me. I’ve mentioned before that I haven’t read a book in over twenty years if you recall. The problem that I’ve faced is I’d crack open a book, start to read it and then get fed up and sleepy. My mind would never let me focus on what I was reading, and I would have trouble keeping up with the written text. After much introspection about this glitch, I decided to place markers on every moment I could feel my energy being sapped and I found the problem.
I discovered that I didn’t know how to read. No shit, man. That may sound utterly implausible, but it’s true. I lacked understanding of the most basic component to comprehension; words. I didn’t understand many of the words, most of them I did yes, but so many others I did not. You ever hear that expression, “it’s all Greek to me?” It’s all right there. I didn’t understand the countless varying definitions of numerous words that I came across, and it symbolically became like reading a foreign language. It’s logical to me now. For instance, if you don’t understand what a “spoon” is, how could you then read the sentence, “He used a spoon to dig his way out of prison?” At first you can understand that a spoon must be something that digs, but without knowing what a spoon is, or what one looks like, it creates a terrible strain on the mind. You try to read past this sentence, but your brain is still using energy, attempting to manifest a meaning for the word spoon. So many fucking authors write books using the biggest words they know, and it just loses people, like it lost me. So, the solution of course is to learn as many words as possible and reading becomes pleasurable.
It’s all very technical as well, and I’ll explain this from an electronics perspective, because it’s one of the first books I read from the bookshelf. I should also mention, that my “superpowers” have enabled me to shift my sight into my own body. It’s weird, I can watch my heart beat, look at what my lungs are doing, and if I want, I can hitch a ride with some corpuscles (blood cells) and surf through my bloodstream. Crazy-fucking-shit. So, I visually inserted myself into my neural-network and watched as energy cycled to and fro all about my brain. It was kind of amazing. There is a galaxy of communication lines in the brain, that when seen as a pure light, stand as beautiful as anything you’ve ever seen. When I did this, I observed that the neurons (nerve cells) firing away their miniscule electrical impulses would instantly and always falter when the misinterpreted word was introduced. That phenomenon created a distension (expansion) of the dendrites (short branches of a nerve cell which conduct impulses) and caused the existent flow of energy to become clogged at the synapse (point where two nerve cells join) and bind up the brain’s electrical stream. It was like a neural traffic jam of sorts and caused a cerebral wave interference to occur. Can you say headache? Now, doctors might have a better understanding of where most headaches come from and can start prescribing dictionaries as cures.
As an easy explanation of the above, take your two fists and press them against each other and push. That’s what’s happening when you read past words that are cryptic to the mind. Your consciousness wants to go forward through the book; your reason wants to understand what a spoon is and comes back. Get it?
This singularity (something remarkable or unusual) rippled into a total body effect for me whereby my central nervous system became bogged, circulation slowed, and I yawned. I fought for air because oxygen was being deprived in the chaos, and the brain needed to jump start itself to resume its natural cycle. That’s what yawning is; it’s the inflow of oxygen, to kick start a drained brain and body. This is the brain’s failsafe system to the stuck energy that overflows in one area for too long. If you continue reading past this biological circuit breaker, you’ll either fall asleep or build up a pretty good headache. Apparently, a good night’s sleep or a cup of black coffee will get some of the energy back on track, but why bother when you can define the word, “spoon” in just a minute? It also helps to have a picture because the mind doesn’t think using text, but images rather.
It has caused me to sit down over the last few days and read the entirety of the dictionary. Now I can scream through books, and it’s opened my mind up to unlimited ideas and possibilities. I probably should have mentioned this earlier to Dr. Nelson, that my memory is now somewhat photographic. I can remember things quite easily, simply by using my imagination to re-experience any occurrence of my past.
Enough on that however, I want to talk about more pressing matters.
Emily brought up the “M” word this morning in bed. You know as in… marriage. I know exactly what the word means, but it still caused me to have a mental reaction. I won’t say I’m against the idea, but I was completely surprised that she would be willing to move so fast. Probably a little too fast, but then didn’t Romeo and Juliet fall madly in love on the first night they met? That’s probably a bad comparison, very tragic story. She told me this morning while we were lying on her cot, holding hands like little teenage kids, and talking about what happens after all of this...
I said, “We could find ourselves a little apartment somewhere outside of Boston maybe. I could get a job and you could go to school or whatever you want.”
“Let’s just get married,” she replies.
I answered with, “Oh yeah that’s a great idea,” thinking she was kidding around.
Then she said, “No, really, why not?”
“Don’t toy with my emotions, I’m already fucked as it is,” I said sitting up.
“I wouldn’t ever toy with your emotions Jack. I would see you rise to the highest pleasures.”
I had to pause on that one before I answered. "You truly are a changed woman,” I said while resting back on my side. We stared into each other’s eyes and held there for many moments, speaking without saying a word. Then I said, “I’ll have to think about it.” She punched me a good one in the shoulder, and we both laughed.
It’s strange to me that in just less than a week I could have made such a bond with a girl who I absolutely hated the week before. People can change though… I mean just look at me. I waltzed in here with a one-track mind and just plain loony for money. Now I’m growing to understand the bigger and better things in life. People. Relationships are all that really matter, and if Emily and I are so close to each other after this short amount of time then why wouldn’t I want to marry her? It makes the walls of this place even more constricting just realizing that outside of them is a new world. A world where Emily and I can live and grow old together, maybe have kids, who knows. As long as we’re stuck here though, under the scrutiny of a potentially life-threatening organization like the CIA… Shit, I don’t want to depress myself delving into this line of thinking. Let’s move on to something different then.
I’ve got the basic skinny on the Asshole Squad, thanks to Jeff. So far, he’s determined that they don’t like me because, “I’m the asshole.” I have no idea why they would conclude that about me, but according to Jeff, they think I walk around the joint like I own the place, that I’m arrogant or something, and I presume that I’m better than everyone else. There also seems to be a bit of jealousy on account of the fact that I have gained the affections of Emily. The sales guy and the construction dude, often commented in Jeff’s presence about the absurdity of, “A hot bitch like her going for a loser like me.”
I don’t fucking know, it seems awfully damn petty to harbor this kind of bullshit with all that’s gone on in here lately. If these idiots had any idea what the fuck was really transpiring in this place they’d change their shitty tune in a hurry.
Here is the breakdown for the crew, Walter, Kyle, Amanda, Frank, and Chester.
Walter is mid-40s, thickset, gray crew-cut hairstyle, and looks like one of those guys that likes fishing for barflies in run-down pubs. He’s an out-of-work contractor who pulled a lot of labor on the Big Dig in Boston back in the day, but since its completion hasn’t found any decent or sustainable jobs. He’s had a tough time dealing with the insanity here and has mentioned several times to Jeff that’s if he can’t get his hands on a Budweiser, he’s going to strong-arm his way out of here.
Kyle is a younger guy, about Jeff’s age. Shoulder length black hair, a goatee and a “666” tattoo right on the back of his neck. He was the drummer in some metal band called “Flaming Riot” in college and got pretty heavy into drugs. He got hooked on crystal meth and decided he needed to clean up but couldn’t afford to, so he volunteered here. A lot of fucking sense that makes; you want to get off drugs, so you sign up for a drug trial? Kyle is a pretty miserable bastard according to my burnt-out friend and apparently, he talks about the twisted idea of burning the place down when he’s angry. Jeff says unfortunately, lots of things make him angry… good thing they don’t give us matches.
Amanda looks like the chubby version of Michael Rooker. She wears her hair short and thinks of herself as one of the guys. She constantly pisses and moans about the fact that they can’t get a square meal and thinks there’s going to be a pretty good chance for a mega lawsuit when this is all over. I would love to remind her that she signed paperwork that prevents that exact thing from happening. She never told Jeff what she used to do, but he gets the idea she could be ex-military based on the way she replies to everything with, “Negative,” “Affirmative” and “Roger that.” She hasn’t expressed any resentment towards me specifically, but refers to Emily as, “The little Barbie doll cunt.” It makes me think about how happy I am to have gotten the mother I got… fuck.
Frank is the only Asian here, wears these super thick glasses and never talks. Remember I told you about him in the shower? I haven’t spoken to him since, but I’m meaning to. For now, he just nods at everyone and submissively cowers in fear when people encroach his space. Jeff has no other info about him.
Chester, or Chuck as he likes people to call him is the apparent ringleader of the group. He’s a little older than I am and talks to people like some kind of used car salesman. His hair is always perfectly combed forward and then a little dip up at the hairline. He has this annoying grin that reveals some pretty decent choppers. Jeff says Chester’s personality is incredibly fake and over cloying. He apparently ran his own children’s talent agency, but it got shut down due to a loss of funding. Chuck was particularly interested to find out about me from Jeff. Asking tons of questions about my past and what the status of Emily and I’s relationship was. Jeff, the smart boy he is, pretty much told him jack shit.
So that’s the cake on those fools. Jeff didn’t discover any daring escape plans or secret ideas, but he’s only recently joined the group. So, hopefully there will be more info tonight.
Lastly and very strangely, Dr. Nelson pulled me aside earlier today after the dosing and told me that he secretly had the Formula 35C tested at a private chem lab. He apparently has a lot of science geek friends and one of his old colleagues called him back with shocking results.
Every element found in Formula 35C is entirely alien and not of this earth.
This idea caused me to scratch my head, and now I’m possibly more worried than ever. I get these images of Area 51 and those elongated alien bodies that are “supposedly” kept there. How deep is the CIA into paranormal/extraterrestrial type activity? Is any of that shit real? I have to concede that the possibility is very high on account of my own gained abilities, and now I wonder at many things about this world. Having no clear understanding of the matter at the time he informed me of this, I decided to ask him why the fuck he wouldn’t discontinue the dosages and let the experiment fizzle out?
According to him, that would be highly dangerous based on the lack of data. He invited me to visualize what stopping a heroin junky from his next fix would do to his mind and body if done too suddenly.
I get the point. Fuck.
-Jack
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