Just for the record, for whoever reads it or thinks it should be recorded, I just came as close as I have since the ER visit to returning there. Took three whole panic pills and needed what must have been over an hour to start feeling close to normal again. Still kind of shaking. In case it gets worse again I packed a bag with anything I would need to entertain myself at the hospital. But I think I will be fine. I’ve not been drinking like I did in the buildup to the ER stay, nor am I plagued by relationship anxiety. That day I remember how she walked toward me and I felt like a drill was boring through my head. I am, however, facing life anxiety like never before.

Now I am at the ghetto coffee shop. I have these whiffs of mortality, of thinking I should be around people should something like this, or worse, happen. I think in terms of what I would not want anyone to find in my apartment should I never return.

I went out to walk, even though it is raining and I genuinely hate being in the rain. It was not so bad as earlier when I went to the Key Food and it was windy as hell, almost soaking my pants with the horizontal rain. During that earlier walk I was crying out in anger and aggravation, and almost crying real tears. This was before I realized I was building up to this anxiety attack.

I went to Broadway and 23rd Street, where there is a Smart City Kiosk device under some scaffolding.  I thought the scaffolding would provide enough shelter that I could sit nearby, even with the rain. I was right. There was dry space on the ground nearby. So I used the Link to call a radio station that lets you listen to their broadcast over the phone, and cranked the volume up to the maximum. (MAX!) Then I sat nearby and tried to make video of how people reacted to the sound of radio coming out of this asshole piece of street furniture.

But it was raining so very few people were out and those who passed by seemed non-plussed. If anyone asked me anything I would have said I heard it but that I assumed it was the sound of someone’s car radio. I have made a few videos of people reacting to scenarios such as this, but I’d feel weird posting it since it kind of exploits those people. Or does it? I don’t know.

So in the thick of major panic attack that was what I did to stay productive. After a while it looked like no one would pass by or have a reaction so I went to the Trade Fair and bought a bottle of water from the outdoor vending machine. I thought I might need it to take another pill. I was still feeling pretty cyclonic inside but I would think that by appearances I looked normal to anybody who might have had reason to notice me. I stopped under the awning at the laundromat on Crescent Street, the TECHNODO or whatever it’s called, and popped one of my two emergency panic pills I carry everywhere in a keychain fob. I had already taken one-and-a-half pills, and would later take another half pill, for three total. That is the most I’ve ever downed. I was thinking the pill from the fob was pretty old and maybe not as potent as the newer ones, so that’s why I took another half pill. It’s very fortunate I had ample pills. I looked it up later and find I was nowhere near any kind of overdose amount, which I wasn’t worried about but thought I should check anyway.

But man I felt like a Goddamn junkie, shakily reaching for the pills having waited far too long to get to them. How did I ever get through days like this before the pills? I guess it just passed, or I tricked myself into thinking it did by drinking it down. But I’m probably farther gone now, however that works. I mean it must be getting harder for my system to just let it pass like it could before.

I should probably be sober anyway if I’m going to be job hunting again. Still not sure where that’s going but it’s been a major source of anxiety every single day.

Now I am drinking coffee, which you might think runs counter to trying to rein in an anxiety attack, but it seems to be just fine, maybe considering how freaked out I was before and how that level makes this incoming caffeination feel like a soft landing. It is a little late in the day for me and coffee.

I cannot keep letting this happen but I know I will. It had been a long while since I had to take pills. I should keep a record of that. I probably do in some form or other through this website.

OK, really feeling like normalcy is coming back to me. Calm is coming. Probably will need another pill later, though. I do not like taking pills of any kind but this is what I’ve done to myself.

I was putting together a video set of some of the things I got kiosks to do last year. Last night I listened to some of that cassette tape audio I recorded, grabbing a mildly interesting statement from someone with prison and law enforcement experience who just wanted to say that someone calling earlier who said they were a killer was obviously no killer. I don’t remember the caller he was referring to but Apology was rife with actors calling in fake crimes. He just knew, this police-type dude. It was interesting how he extended his comments for so long, as if this was a valuable testimony or outlay of experience that will be of value to future generations.

It reminded me of the reactions from others when I played Apology tapes for them. Most people just could not understand why anyone would do this, dismissing the callers with the “get a life” award. But that type of reaction met the tapes of people calling to confess crimes. This guy was just filling air time with a tale that seemed self-serving but also self-conscious, leading me to question why he did this.

I’ve overheard conversations between free phone counseling services and the troubled people who are encouraged to call them. You can do this now that Smart City kiosks it possible to hear both sides of outdoor public telephone conversations. The voices I hear sounded something like this police dude, riding on a plain of self satisfaction and the prolonged attempt to maintain their dignity.

The new website here is kind of a sewer. A lot of raw content, untreated. That is my life. …

It is the next day. Monday. I never sent the above text spew yesterday though I thought sure I had. Not liking the looks of this site, might just revert to the classic .MOBI theme. I liked that one. I liked the .MOBI.

I wrote a fun piece about the payphones I found at Journal Square in Jersey City. And now I have a deal where I’m going to write a story about payphones for a newsletter I’ve been subscribed to for about a year. That might be good but it might be a waste of time, like the last writing gig I tried to turn into a steady thing. This will not be a steady thing, just a one off. But at least it pays.

I tried the writer thing for a couple of months. I sent out a bunch of stories and poems. Everything got rejected, and I just said fuckit. Being published does not do much for me, though I admit it was kind of fun at first the last time tried.

Bounced .MOBI to the new site, since the spirit of things was that .MOBI was semi-secret, at least to the search engines, while this site is completely invisible. It reminds to be seen how true that remains. There is cleanup work to do. I think some of that anxiety might have pushed me over the brink yesterday, packing my bag for a couple of nights’ stay at the big hospital up the road. But I feel fine now, if a little sleepy. I slept like a screaming sprawler last night, waking up twice thinking someone was approaching the bed. Dreamed my head was swallowed and chewed up by some kind of claw machine’s claws gone horribly wrong. Also dreamed a few nights back that I swallowed 2 Lorazapans after 5 beers. That could kill a person, I think. One time I screwed up and drank too soon after Klonazapan, and the next day was one of the worst of my life.

But I can’t even handle 5 beers anymore. Well, yeah I can.

I think that dream was my warning sign that I was going to be in dire need of those pills, and very soon.

Going now to write something not so indulgent and gratuitous. If I’m even capable.