Torn. It's a funny relationship I have with alcohol, and it occurred to me today that it might be alcohol that is keeping me here day to day. It's when I manage to not drink for extended periods of time that I most deeply reflect on why I'm still here when I don't want to be, and it's compelling. The window open right now is still pretty perfect.

And I get very, very conflicted when I even consider continuing on (and that's before any realization of how much money I have in my bank account. I've never had no money, and unless I go back to the Post, that's where I'm headed in 2 to 3 months or so, I haven't done the math).

Recently, if I manage to not drink for any extended period of time, I end up trying to be productive in any number of random endeavors in which I like to partake, but then I stop and end up staring into space wondering what I'm still doing here. And I have my answers, but they're all shallow and inconsequential. The only thing that makes sense is to manifest what this whole blog thing is supposed to be documenting.

On the other hand, if I get sucked into drinking too soon in a day which just leads to more drinking, it sort of just numbs and washes things out and suddenly tomorrow is here. Of course, the ridiculous irony is that this kind of drinking will have to kill me eventually, too. Or not, I am pretty convinced I won't die of alcohol-related liver/kidney failure.

I also realize that one major revision for my next attempt is NO ALCOHOL until the actual execution. I'm pretty convinced it was alcohol that thwarted the last attempt and the last one in San Francisco. If I go through with it, I have to be lucid and it has to follow a day of mindfulness and meditation, and the elements of the execution need to be as concise as pulling a trigger.

Lunar New Year came and went. Another year turned over. I seriously don't want to keep doing what I've been doing the last year. In fact, whenever I head out of my apartment and realize I'm still doing the exact same thing in the exact same patterns that I have for the last year, it's not good. It's not alright.

And I still strangely remind myself that I recognize that I believe this is all a manifestation of some karma. I don't need to do this, to play out this karma. There's a separation between my own personal realizations, which looks at my life from the outside and says I don't need to do this and this karma, which is where I've led my life and makes doing this logical, comfortable and makes sense.

I don't think I'm particularly attached to doing this, obviously – I'm still here. But when my mind starts processing my personal theory of everything, it just makes sense. Of course if you believe in it, all of this is karma, even the separation, and I do think I'm on a path that has a continuity over multiple lifetimes.

If you believe in reincarnation, the vast majority of people totally forget their previous lives and don't question why they are who they are now. If you do question it, then you realize a certain continuity and that there's a reason why you are the way you are now. You're not the same person, there's not necessarily anything about you now that is like a previous incarnation. The only thing that gets transferred is the ingrained, karmic habits.

So I do think suicide is part of my path. I look ahead and think of the possibility of continuing on and it's not attractive. It's useless to me and to other people. I am of little consequence to anyone else on this planet right now, and my life is that way because of the circumstances of my life and the decisions I've made.

It's time to stop being useless and reboot, and I mentioned before that maybe suicide is a requisite part of the spiritual path, perhaps whatever the motivation. You need it in your karmic DNA the feeling of giving up this precious life before you can really understand what it means to live a life of service to others, and even if you do it because you think your life sucks, I think everyone has it deep within that this life is precious, and the act of suicide still has that imprint of selflessness, of letting go.

The worst part of this is that I just admitted that I get conflicted. I don't know how the story ends. Although, come to think of it, imagining myself in my apartment with absolutely no cash left is . . . pretty funny.