His bank is still fucking him over. Said that he called them to get his card unfrozen again, and the woman who answered to "help" was high as shit, changed her voice intentionally each time he called and burst out laughing and kept sending him back to the automated system. He's understandably pissed as all goddamned hell, and considering complaining and telling them to fire her, because that behavior is unacceptable. Plans to switch banks when he has the time.
He had to Paypal me $400 and have me withdraw it out of my own account at the ATM, just to have any kind of usable money, because his card just randomly refuses to work. I don't mind, but the fact that this has been randomly happening to him for -months- is fucking absurd.
That bank needs to get their shit together.

He found some Black Widow Cider at a local beer store. I thought it was a seasonal thing only, for fall / Halloween / Falloween, but I guess not. Either way, I'm not complaining. It's probably my favorite beer / cider / I call them the same thing because fuck you, aside from Schlenkerla Smokebeer, which I can't find anywhere anymore anyway.

Between that, and a shot of Sake, I was pretty drunk. Not overtly so. I've been far worse in the past like week. But it was enough.

He was upset. Tried to help him get his mind off things, but he's just fried. Feels like his brain is short circuiting. I get it, because I went through the same thing.
So after we both got drunk, we went to go lay down and watch Blair Witch Project after having watched the third one a few days ago, per my suggestion. I hadn't seen it since I was probably 10 or 12 before that.

I couldn't hear half of anything said in the movie, because I wanted to let him fall and stay asleep, and the dvd had no subtitles (that I was aware of), but I still liked it. It doesn't connect with a lot of people, and a lot of people think it's stupid, but having grown up in the middle of nowhere in the heart of the Appalachians, it really hits home for me for them to just be getting lost and camping out in the woods, nowhere near civilization, with creepy shit going on in the middle of the night. I've been to so many places that look like the places in that movie. I've even found creepy, abandoned, dilapidated houses in the middle of the woods that look like the Parr house in the movie.
And some of them very well may have been inhabited by child murderers at some point. Who fucking knows. Crazy shit happens out in the sticks, some completely unknown and unreported.
Not quite the same thing or on the same level as child serial-killing, but I remember times growing up, walking home from the bus stop, and overhearing fellow 13-year-olds bragging about how they were sleeping with middleaged, married men for pills and alcohol. It's abhorrent, I didn't agree with it then, and I don't agree with it now, but that's just the kind of shit you heard, shit that was *normal,* living out in the country.
Never did it myself, but those were things the "trashy" / "skanky" kids did absolutely do.

Had a dream on Sunday where I got shot. Those are always fun. The bullets never feel like anything (thank god) except a weird twinge / ache, but my ribs also hurt in general when I woke up, so it could just be related to that.
I think my ribs have been hurting because of the weather in general. I fucking hate getting old.

Cut up a bunch of the old journal entries I decided to take with me at the risk that they contained mementos or other important things. I have a flair for the overdramatic, at least in my completely private spaces, and only later, after I've vomited all of my tumultuous brain tantrums onto a page, do I sit and realize that I probably could have processed and worded my shit better. It is not the kind of stuff I want attached to my memory after I die.
Typed word at least has the benefit that it often sits on my desktop for hours or days at a time before I submit it to... wherever I'm submitting it, in this instance on my Neocities page, so I can go back and edit things before I commit them. And I can delete them on the fly. Pen and paper doesn't really afford that luxury. Once the ink is soaked in, you have to physically eliminate the writing in some form, be it blacking out or covering up or destroying the actual page(s).
Part of it's also just liberating, even though it kind of defeats the purpose of recording the thoughts to begin with.

We had a seafood boil on Sunday night. It was good, a lot better than the last few we'd had before I left, which were more potatoes than seafood.
A few of our mussels were closed, though, and he explained that means they're dead and can make you sick. That's good information to have, because I absolutely would not have known or even thought to look that up otherwise.

My chest has felt tight lately and I don't know what's causing it. Could be anxiety, could be too much caffeine, could be the amount I've been hitting my vape lately, could be lung irritants, could be something else entirely.
My throat also randomly gets sore and feels tight, which makes me think it's more anxiety or lung related and less heart related. Also because I've had numerous EKGs and chest x-rays that turned up nothing of note. Even though my primary dismissed me on it, upon bringing it up, back in my old location, I kind of want to ask a new doctor out here if they think I have asthma, instead.
I was told I don't because I don't have wheezing or lung rattling, but literally every other sign, now and since I was a kid, points to asthma.

But I'm finishing this for now.