12/13/2022

Taking care of my dealer and helping them acquire a copy of their social security card was a bust. Apparently one needs an appointment to go to the social security office, otherwise one will be waiting for hours on-end without any real hope of seeing a bureaucrat.
Sigh.
On the bright side, they thanked me for reaching out and having the impetus to help them because they get anxious asking for help. My dealer says they'll make an appointment and have their father take them sometime soon. On the other hand, I'm probably going to make that appointment for them and tell them the time and date so there's no shenanigans afoot. I'll just wait 'til they re-acquire their notarized birth certificate.

Instead we went to lunch at The Original Pancake House in Bloomfield, NJ. I was exceptionally chatty because I microdosed in the morning and it was hitting me while touring up the Parkway north. My mind was fixated on the Cows In The Field podcast discussing Fight Club. Cows In The Field deconstructs films in a philosophical context and they made some decent points about Fight Club promoting fascism considering how Tyler becomes a dictator over disaffected young men with no purpose in life. One thought that came to mind was about Jack beating the ever-living shit out of Angelface later on in the film for absolutely no reason besides, "I wanted to destroy something beautiful."
Considering there are may gay subtexts with the fighting, the focus on guys, "We're a generation of men raised by women. I'm wondering if another woman is really the answer we need.", Bob/Meatloaf turning into a woman after losing his testicles, "Most of the week we were Ozzie and Harriet", and more I figured this was another gay subtext. Tyler, being the man who gives no fucks, had sex with or was blown by Angelface. Jack, being the nebbish counterpart to his imaginary friend Tyler Durden (spoilers!), can't come to terms with that part of his sexuality. Since Jack doesn't know he's Tyler, and vice versa, that incident or attraction nags at his subconscious 'til he breaks down and mutilates Angelface. In short, you can't have a desire to fuck something ugly.

Then my thoughts switched over to my dealer. Basically their example of being genuinely kind, compassionate, and understanding and knowing them helped me take a new aspect of my personality which speaks the language of service with an accent to use 'service' in a non-toxic way. No "quid pro quo" or anything else like that nonsense. For example when I visit Leah, she gets extra help by having the dishes done, the towels in the bathroom folded, or the trash taken out, and so forth. Not because I'm simping. Not because I'm expecting her to change her feelings about me. It's just that I love Leah and want to do nice things for her, regardless if she cooks for me or any other favors.

At The Original Pancake House, we chatted it up and my dealer acknowledged I was being more chatty than usual. I shared my Fight Club theory, spoke about how my dealer is a positive influence for my personal growth, along with trying to figure out if kinky people are managing their personal demons more than vanilla/non-kinky people. With kink, people are more communicative about deep and dark stuff that's beyond "I was raped by my uncle at the age of five", but sharing their fantasies and being open and not judging when someone opens up to them. It's a radical kind of vulnerability and I think normies really don't have that beyond going to see their therapists, if they have one, or popping some SSRI/SNRI prescription. My dealer told me about visiting their friend for a holiday party and how the 'normal' people were getting shitfaced drunk while the others were smoking pot and doing crafts. My dealer is a good human being and admitted to feeling a bit smug and superior to normies, but has compassion for them as well.

Afterwards we hit the post office, I mailed out my Christmas cards, dropped my dealer off back at home, and headed back across the Driscoll bridge. Shortly after my crossing I was in Matawan and dropped off a Christmas card for my friend who was taking care of her father. Then I went home, ate, got stoned, and went to bed early.

I need to count my blessings more often and not take them for granted. Taking something for granted often means I'm forgetting about them.