The Quiet Game.

Privacy> doesn't entail detail rather the amount of people secluded to the act.
If you want to make a donation to me, my paypal addy is: pasha52783@gmail.com

A little tale... (creative writing, yours truly)

My name is paul and I'm an addict.


Friday, February 12, 2016

Nietzsche was right about men eventually coming to the Ubermensh.

I read an article in time magazine stating that eventually they'll figure out a medication that will allow people to live to 143 years old. that means a reduction of space for man kind. The ubermensh will be the rich man and the poor will get wiped out.

Sunday, February 7, 2016

It's 5:22am I just got home from the beach...

I took a speedy walk along the water line singing sinatra and russian shanson in solitude. It's guilt. Forgive me father fore I have sinned, my chances in life have really trimmed. I haven't slept yet today and have full intent on attending church prayer, Ah, my youth. It's gone. Deep in shame Leap the same humor to tame the ladies I train.


I'm a high spirit, and circumstances are here. An aspergers case can never have PURE feeling for another human. regardless of gender or preference. Only an animal. There's several a floor below me but I'm well aware of their tamer. Which takes away from their positivity. As you americans put it, "No homo".

..I suppose if my family's comfortable enough with my death to murder me for profit, it's cool. After all, between me and my brother I'm wrong irrevocably wrong, he's younger and regardless of what I did or didn't do, right or wrong, I'm a drug addict.

Morning of 2/9/16. S51 Lady bus drivers wavin at me smilin'. yeah you let an aspie on the bus free a few times and remember my face. Consider your self philanthropically secured in heaven.

Also I realised I've been drugged with inhalants in the past using the central air system. My curiosity as to find out the purpose of doing it to me excels my desire for any justice by a long stretch.

Thursday, February 4, 2016

I've acknowledged the possibility of hallucinating a second individual at the beach.

If they are hallucinations. Must be tied to some form of emotional  repression. The first time a few weeks back, beach side, I hallucinated a 9th grade classmate lady who's full name came to my head without ever knowing her last name. I  was born with photographic memory and the damaged remains of it were evidently enough to reassemble her face adding 17 years in maturity. Unless, she was actually there... what makes me heavily doubt it is the way she was dressed. Very..unlikely. Then today in the morning, walking home from the beach. I crossed the street on father capodanno and having had walked a block and a half into lincoln avenue I saw a young lady who resembled Nastya so much it was startling. The distance we were apart at, it is TECHNICALLY possible that it was actually her. But she doesn't dress that way nor wear her hair in such a manner. But the resemblance of the face was STUNNING. And rough estimate on height/weight was exactly hers.


Recently I told a doctor of acknowledging having been born with endorphin deficiency. Due to that he was also from the Soviet Union, he interrupted me and said "Why don't you quit justifying." I told him it's far from justifying. More like scientifically rationalizing. I'm not an addict, maybe, it's the truth.

Jews hold me in some sort of secretively high spiritual regard. Indifferently friendly towards me at the  russian church. Gay man seem to often be appealed by me. Women? I'm straight but my income is SSI. Doesn't leave me anywhere with women thus....

I'm just a JUVENILE diabetic man who wants to be left alone in comfort.

Where as shopenhauer believed compassion to be the basis of morality I believe "sympathy" to be the basis of many moral flaws in today's american society.

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Aspergers idiot.

The saintly pashkin awoke. He saw a young lady in a nursing assistant outfit sitting by the door of his room. Enveloped in life's troubles and startled by circumstances, he said hello getting out of bed. She smiled and gave a generic reply. Aware of the fact he'd been here awhile, just as every morning drugs came to his mind. He saw a few books sitting on his drawer, 2 out 3 already done reading. Dissapointingly thinking back on the material, he felt the sorrows of a decaying mind. Remembering little of his beloved greg iles's stories. He left his room and went to the nursing station. He asked about his discharge due to that he made a decision to leave rather than go to a state facility. He was told a weeks time is left. Walking over to the phone noticing diana's traumatised smile as she glanced over at him. He called his bank account to check balance. A little over a 100 dollars was remaining due to the fact he let family use the rest for home needs. At which point, a karma surging idea came to mind. To give his mother's friends daughter a gift card with the remainder of his balance. He sat down and thought into it heavily realising how inappropriate it would seem coming from me due to my problem with addiction. Awkwardness in future moments being the smaller issue. So he called his mother and told her to buy a $100 gift card and give it to her anonymously. Make up a believable story as to whom its from unless she felt uncomfortable saying it's from her. Because in solid fact, the girl receiving was only a teenager. And they look at all drug addicts as scum. I see this as only being positive. Faulty character outlook in terms of addiction can only help secure a drug-free future for somebody growing up. However ugly Pashkin may have been painted in her eyes, he felt is a greater gift than any monetary value. And he couldn't take that away from her. Even if it regained karma points in jungian's collective unconcious. It'd be selfish.


Sure, change in my life would be nice. Even as far as a relationship goes. But seriously now, what's left of me, after 2 comas. I'm on disability receiving change from the govt, that's all I have financially. So in other words, it'll remain as is till I'm in a city cemetary. Whether of a natural death or I'm killed due to close ties.

My family got a lump sum of money cause of me. I got an email from some rich character with the statement "I'd like to make you a donation.". How do I know for fact it was true? The email came to my gmail acct which filters spam and was from a 2 letter domain name. B-i-n-g-o and bingo was his name. Who knows, maybe they'll do it by poisoning food or maybe one day i'll get off and the smack with be  cut with rat poison.

OH WAIT MORE DOESTOEVSKIAN IDIOCY FOR YOU:


infact last time i gave away narcotics,  i  was at this chicks house and we were slammin coke and she just had such an "average gal with a dog pet" touch to her that if she offered, i don't  know if i would've said no. She sold that card well. the image, that is. Something about women where's the"average gal" image works most efficient with my testosterone levels. Not to mention she was so beat down from needle abuse that the lack of ANY image on my part just didn't register with her at all. She was only concerned with dog being quiet. She was a lovable little tigress.

Monday, January 25, 2016

In loving memory of Bill Harris.

Everyone hates a bore...everybody hates a drunk.


oh yeah, he ain't dead just we aren't neighbors no more! :(

Prior to getting sick with diabetes, on a visit to inpatient psychiatry due to an overdose. I have a memory of a particular man who had the oddest habit. All day long he'd watch tv, writing something on paper. Both I can now formally understand, but the fact he chose to do it STANDING for hours on end is still beside me. I remember a young lady commentin giggling on his habit with the remark "He must've of been a journalist." Possibly, post-brain trauma is when I met him. But even in such case, hypergraphia. For hyperlexia hypergraphia and photographic memory to coincide ...that's as likely as tom cruise being straight. Just, doesn't quite fit. Yet it happened, day I was born. "Formally" went to waste. But what can  I say. I did it my way.


My name is pavel and I'm an addict. Sober-eeng.

I'm a miracle, solid proof of God. My first NDE wasn't comatose, I was nailed by a mustang on a bike. Man when I heard those brakes screeching and my sub-concious partially realized what's about to happen in a few seconds...the surge of adrenaline impact blew through me and before I  landed, the most intimate moments of my life fired a blaze through my soul, getting up, I was a comforting cold sweat of the soul. It was as if I was cold sweating in withdrawal but in a purely pleasant way. And my body extended in circumference so widely, the 4 people present were hit in our collective unconcious miracle. Mines fired orgasmically through us all. I've never felt so calm as I did the moment I got up off the ground that day and told the driver I don't want his money, he can leave. Phew. I'll stick to suboxone and take it easy.

Friday, January 22, 2016

Real fucking clever of me man..

So in the middle of the night, I decide to take a mile walk in the freezing cold to mcdonalds to buy a bigmac/milkshake/fries. On the way back, I started walking in the wrong direction, my happy meal drops out of my fucking bag, not  sure where. THEN, I lose my footwear, mind you wearing slippers in 25 degree weather. Walked 10 blocks back to Hylan blvd in the freezing cold and GOD BLESS the man who helped me. Drove  me home.  I could've ended up with pneumonia. *sigh*.



I can't believe that I turned  out so white man I grew up by coney island. So here's a lil rap verse for my niggas:

 my nigga trucks keepin it real, spittin dem 8 bars u know his flow is a steal, when he come at u hard body consider it ya last meal

(trucks is an EFNet pal. he is a good guy.)

в зали кто та крикнул повторити но скрипач играт уже не мог.... ;(
*..begins to cry*

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Ms. Jaimee O'connor, will you marry me?

....i'm not big on craigslist and i know you didn't see it as a missed connection. But, never the less. I'm sober today and just incase, better joyously sorry than spitefully safe or something along those lines...


I'd figure a lesbian doctor well off might see one night with a "PER SE" ex-patient as philanthropic cause. You're a great actress.
- 1/12 2:30am

...Impact of an Irish Fox on an early onset mid-life crisis. I just see a hyperlexic doestoevskian idiot savant getting thrown a hot brothel girl from a gay man he's never met in his life solely due to the fact he's read him as...ah...where'd my youth go. mind you while homeless residing at the beach and staten island Ferry as indicators of testosterone levels your "not so feminine friendly tone and approach within medical ethics" can't compete with. When you got sinatra-level charisma and a vagina between your legs...that's money talk, somethin else. Ah well, a stranger in the night I  oddly enough have no photographic recall of despite such presence. White pages didn't give me your information, no sweat. (6.3 a1c w/o ever measuring blood sugar that's money fact, i've read doctors who are juvenile diabetics who had a hard time maintining this with presicion.).

How far can I pull back to "rebuild"...with all that acknowledged. I'm alive....to this day despite everything that's happened. I've lost essense in fate, mate.

- 1/13 late morning

Damn. Sand Lane NA meeting changed locations. 13 years in addiction, 2 comas in between neither a direct result of drugs amongst many other obsceneties. Alot for a "Rain Man" to process.

an autistic person can only develop social presence when becoming comfortable with another individual solely based on "DEFINING" him or her with ideas he or she is comfortable with. Ofcourse an autistic person with minimal intellect doesn't have any such ideas to base on thus...it greatly varies.

1/13 8:17pm

Monday, January 11, 2016

World wouldn't be no worse no better a place without me...

With that said. Mystery, uncertainty. 


Then past sober nuisances...


 All that glitters is not gold unless it is on the wrist of a transgenderish nurse who first clarifies she's seen you in a coma then makes an indirect statement to a lady she was talking on the phone with... Well, evidently this particular lady she spoke to "Nataliya" didn't ever consider the possibility of these factors coinciding  daughters that love adopted pets and them adopting a pet that could fuck for hours on end and even if PER SE the prized daughter who was involved in this particular romantic disclosure didn't feel any satisfaction from such "love-herent" instances due to intoxication of any sort, it'll penetrate the sub-concious of any human being, such physical presence. To think, "Nataliya, they feel they need each other."

You have got to be fucking kidding me. Because with my angel, the prized daughter, if i was ANY OTHER CREATURE other than the exact person I am....(especially in finances)... we could have never been, not for a single moment.

My current escapades don't make me a sociopath. I'm autistic. It always drizzles in Rain Man's head and high blood sugar adds humidity to the issue. I'm worried the CIA is closely monitoring my daily thoughts and behaviors and are currently capable of manipulating cat behaviors. I stepped outside this morning shortly after I mentioned above my "Rainmanish physical gift" and the  5 or 6 homeless cats residing in my/neighbor's yard were ALL sitting on my neighbor's porch, top section and just as I opened the door and stepped out, they all stared at me swiftly with the oddest expressions on their kitty faces.

Saturday, January 9, 2016

schizophrenia is a wholesome card in a lonesome ballpark.

In the late 1800s we had Nietzsche late 1900s 2pac  accurately mixed in heteros ual  origin while after the latter died their collective spirit "in the midst of "overdoses fallen staircases and comas homos showing up at my crib discussing aromas" brought onto you , yours truly.                                        ...sober grievances.

Though next morning.                                                           Then comes a day where yet again your character stands out in the midst of blind fury complacently adjusted
by personally-romantic views of youthful bordering of social retardation.
So , you say to yourself , well I've already made it thus far, what's one more on a CLEAR HEAD.
Three months later you wake up knee deep in the Bone Tree area of Greg Iles's Methamphetamine Mafia novel's associating JFK's harvey lee's co-conspirator with them. And I must say, photographic memory defect must have some relation to that area of the brain which senses low blood glucose because time and time again I've escaped a gravely seizure while heavily intoxicated on junk. But I'm not one to feed book junkies. And to think only five minutes prior to the young lady pullin up on the side of the road to which I was crossing, breathing heavily. I was already fulfilling the romantic short-span fantasy of "It'll be just one." And all in all, I have legit reason to look past such immediate-span denial and deeper into the facts, mayhaps it is only addiction which has allowed me to have
 survived to this day. Mayhaps Pasha "Aspergers" Seehlver wasn't born to be a professor cause of a mental defect (as professed by my rehab colleague in 2010, "you got a photographic memory, you
could be a professor!)
But to strive towards the next one, point blank range. Whatever that means, I'm all idioms and could social inadequacies don't coerse one to draw gun violence into sentiment foreplay for the stockholm's breather who pulled into a parking space roadside greeley avenue as I was crossing the street heading home. This particular character, I'm almost definate I was not hallucinating fore she had been sitting in a car. It just isn't quite fitting to think a person can hallucinate an object of such massive proportion. And where as in a previous post I claimed "I'll still have another cigarette over individuals blowing smoke up my ass." It's not that simple in the bigger picture. Because I've softened. Literally. I don't gain full erections anymore and this morning I resorted to
listening to Sinatra's "Yestrday" in the shower. So that means my time a man knows a limit and a day will come where...Eh, I don't downplay kevorkian cards or play basketball. Let's skip past that one folks. Christ is lord, today is sunday.
All is safe.

P.S. Greg Iles, god bless you. Your books provided FULL escape where is reading nietzschean shitspew, only spiritual
comfort. If you haven't, read Greg Iles's "Mortal Fear", "Dead Sleep" and "The devils punchbowl". Latter of which I believe
is the second in the penn cage book family he's written thus far. Turning angel was a just bieber touch to a cool fiction family  . But what can I say, if it sells, it shells.