So there’s a bit of a conundrum: I couldn’t watch TV past 10:00—I got too restless, and just wanted to go to bed, even though I didn’t feel especially tired, which meant I was lights out before 10:30, so eight hours would mean that I’m getting up at 6:30, which is earlier than 7:00, etc. Was awake for a little while, woke up around 2:00, then around 4:00, then around 6:00, couldn’t go back to sleep, laid around, got my clock a little before 7:30, I guess, probably can’t go back to sleep with all that ticking—it’s like a beating drum that keeps me from drifting off, counted, prayed a little, counted, prayed for another moment, counted, etc., until about 8:00. So another restless night, even if I made it, in bed, anyhow, to almost 8:00. Because of this, I’m thinking of getting off my .5 mg of risperidone—getting off the risperidone completely, for good—sooner, rather than later, and I’m even thinking of dropping back down to 50 mg of trazadone, as it doesn’t seem to be doing that much, at least it doesn’t seem like it, and it could, possibly, impede an orgasm, so, well, I figured, what do I have to lose? Another restless night? If things turn out worse, I can always get back on both the .5 mg of risperidone and the extra 50 mg of trazadone.
So a teaspoon of instant coffee contains about 80 mg of caffeine, a 12 oz can of Dr. Pepper contains about 40 mg, and a tea bag of Earl Grey contains about 40 mg. The food and drug administration says you can drink about 400 mg of caffeine without negative health effects, and insomnia is a negative health effect—so, considering that I was sleeping poorly with modest amounts of caffeine—about 200 mg, I didn’t see why I shouldn’t try drinking up to 400 mg and see what that was like. That meant I would be drinking about three cups of coffee before 10:00, two cans of Dr. Pepper before 1:00, and two bags of Earl Grey up until 4:00. If I mixed the Earl Grey with one bag of decaf all of that would total about 360 mg of caffeine a day. So I was thinking why not—so I only had decaf Earl Grey right now, but I had some left over black tea, so I might mix them tomorrow, or if the decaf feels fine, I might stick with all decaf, but the point would be that according to the FDA I should be able to drink about 360 mg of caffeine a day and still be able to sleep, at least once I get used to it, so, I was thinking of adding caffeinated Earl Gray to my mix, too. And continuing to drink three cups of coffee instead of two.
The bottom line is that I can’t stand total sobriety. I can’t stand not putting something into my body to alter my state of mind. For me that means caffeine for the first half of the day and diet decaf soda pop from 4:00 to 10:00. So here’s how I avoid sobriety: wake-up—take a hot shower; eat breakfast, drink coffee; have a cup of tea or two; drink a Dr. Pepper or two; have a snack; drink tea until 4:00. Drink seltzer water until 6:30. Eat dinner. Drink ginger ale and or root bear; take another hot shower; drink another ginger ale or root bear; go to bed around 10:00—maybe I mix up the ginger ale and root beer with a cup of sleepy time tea, which is basically chamomile, etc. So I’m always consuming something. I can’t stand not to be. I get far too restless. In the afterlife I imagine I’ll be pretty much the same way, except I’ll drink wine at night—I don’t know if you can, or would want, to smoke in heaven, but if there are no negative side effects, i.e. your lungs are fine, I considered that as a possibility—although it also seemed that stale cigarettes stank and reduced your quality of life, even if there were no negative health effects, so, I thought, maybe nobody smokes in heaven, I don’t know. But if you can I figured I might, etc. Just because of the habit, and the routine, and the nicotine. But whatever—if I keep talking like this I’ll just torture myself into wanting a cigarette and, eventually, a glass of scotch, so I’d better cut it out. But, yeah, I figured in heaven I would be a creature of habit, too, of compartmentalization, and, perhaps, some seeming degree of complication. I think it’s just who I am—and that it doesn’t necessarily mean that I don’t like myself.
I think, however, that, deep down, I do have some problem with liking myself, in part, because of my sexuality, and in part because of the fact that I do not live a financially independent life with a beautiful wife and a happy sex life. The schism between how famous I’d like to imagine I will be, after my death, and how utterly unknown I am now, makes things difficult. But there’s nothing I can do about that which is beyond my control, so I must, like a Buddhist, be mindful of my breathing and make a daily effort to accept all this. That’s the only way forward for me, and if you get right down to it, for a lot of people, I think, although, often enough, I’d say, for different reasons. But the human race is evolving, and one day there will be a lot more people like me—indeed, I think there already are, in many ways—it’s just suppressed, but, I think, in the future, there will be many people like me that can no longer suppress it, and we will have loads more gay, bi, trans, orgiastic people, etc. Not to mention, I have this idea that people will start having mixed litters—i.e. one black kid and one white kid and maybe one mixed kid, too, etc., if you have black and white partners, for example. I don’t necessarily think that everybody is just going to mix together into universal brownness—I think evolution, ultimately, will preserve variety, and differences. Furthermore you’ll wind up with dark skinned people with bright blue, gray, or green eyes, etc., and white skinned people, very white skinned people, with virtually black eyes, etc. It will be a wonderful thing.
So to hell with it—tomorrow I was going to mix a bag of caffeinated black tea with a bag of decaf Earl Grey in my teapot—so I was going to consume about 360 mg of caffeine tomorrow, go to bed around ten, please God be relaxed and focused enough to read until about 10:30, go to sleep, get up between 7:00 and 8:00. Maybe the extra caffeine would interfere—maybe it would interfere permanently, maybe only until I got used to it—but I couldn’t take any more sobriety than was absolutely necessary. I had to do something about this—I had to accept myself not only for who I am, mentally and emotionally, but also as a creature of habit and compartmentalization. I think it was ingrained, in me, from my upbringing, in particular, but also from society in general, to think that habit, and compartmentalization, was, in general, a bad thing. That putting something into my body that would slightly alter my state of mind was weak, inferior, and bad, which, as of right now, in particular, I disagree with. I am this way, I can’t help it, and I must learn to love this about myself, too. It makes me interesting, not weak or inferior. It takes all kinds.
Now, what was the main problem between me and Ursula, right now? Well, I imagine, in heaven, you can change shape, a little—for a given time you might have small or large breasts, dark or blond hair, brown or blue eyes, etc., and all of that would be desirable, if, for no other reason, than to serve as an exotic counterpoint to what you’re used to, so, the naked people I was watching, not every day, but often enough, gave me the tools I needed to construct a mental image of my Ursula, but seeing naked people, and imagining naked people, and convincing yourself that they love you, and want you, are two different things. And, although there is certainly something to be said for a cheap, dirty, low down orgasm that would not necessarily involve a love affair, the fact of the matter is that sex, in general, is more potent, and pleasurable, if you can imagine that you have some kind of an emotional connection, i.e., that the other person really desires you, wants you, perhaps even loves you, etc., and that is not something I can easily imagine, at this time. So I need to do some work on myself—to realize that I am fully adequate, and desirable, to plenty of people, not everybody, but, if you get to know me, plenty of people, and, once I realize that, I think my sex life will get a whole hell of lot easier, and, necessarily better. The trick is getting yourself to believe and accept that you can be totally desirable to one attractive person, and, also, of no interest to another attractive person, without letting that interfere with the life you share with the person that is interested, that does desire you, want you—you have to say, to hell with this other person, they don’t know what they’re missing, and, possibly, they don’t even exist, they’re not even real, because I know, deep down, if you get to know me, you’ll love me, or, at least, the slightly more handsome, financially independent version of me that exists in heaven—and because that is coming, then, to invest in me now is totally desirable, because, well, you’re getting a good deal. So, theoretically, at least, I should, in this life, be perfectly comfortable with the idea that an attractive woman will want me to an excruciating degree, whenever, that is, that she really gets to know me—which is something that may never happen, but is something that could happen, and, as such, I should be able to imagine it, and believe it, and enjoy a sex life, in my imaginary world, that allows for this possibility—this contingency, this belief, ultimately, in another person, and, potentially, many such people.