I do not want to be doing this right now.
As usual, I am sleepy and dizzy and disoriented and I just want to be sleeping in my bed. Trying to stay focused on the screen is like trying to paint a sunrise onto a balloon while swinging on a swing.
It’s a weird image, granted, but trust me, it’s apt.
Gah, even typing seems like some kind of elaborate trick, like juggling chainsaws or shooting an apple off a very trusting person’s head.
Well, trusting or suicidal, I suppose.
Nope. Not gonna make it. Gonna exercise my rarely seen opt out clause and go nap.
Wish me luck when I wake.
Well OK. It’s like three hours later and I spent most of that time asleep. Here’s hoping that was enough rest to at least let me function.
I regret that latest nap. I feel like it was a lapse in self-discipline and I have too little of that even on a good day so I feel like I really let myself down today.
Then again, maybe I truly had no choice. Hard to say.
Aaaaand now I got to poop. Even though I just pooped. Apparently my bowels are demanding an encore.
I will be right back.
Phew. That was…. a lot, considering I thought I was empty.
I better get writing before the third wave hits.
Still not in the best of moods, pooping issues aside, as I am sure you can tell.
Some time soon I want to stop being lazy and/or avoidant and take that long hot cleansing bath or at least a very hot shower and truly cleanse my pores and get my skin back into working condition.
I know it will make me feel so much better.
And that should be more than enough incentive to do it.
But it ain’t. Trog says no. Trog doesn’t care what rationality and common sense say, it still views any attempt to take it out of its damp dark cave as a brutal and vicious attack to be resisted with maximum force so it can escape back into its hole.
Future reward does not even enter into it. The jackpot could be ten million bucks, a month long orgy with more cock than a rooster convention, and a personal interview with the ghost of Isaac Asimov, and my Trog would still veto the fuck out of it.
And I am sooooo tired of its bullshit.
I want to kick it to the curb, shouting “To hell with you and your lies! You are worse than useless and you know nothing! NOTHING! I am stronger than you! I am bigger than you! I am MORE than you! So get the fuck out of here with your toxic fears and bitter bile and never, ever come back!”.
So to hell with it. I just did it. Maybe I just ejected a vital part of myself. We will see.
But I refuse to be ruled by blind, infantile fear any longer.
Fuck you, Trog. And good riddance.
Now to go back to sleep.
More after the break.
I yearn to burn
I had a much better idea for a topic earlier but as usual, I have forgotten it.
So whatever. The wheel turns, the river flows, and time marches on.
I am definitely at the stage now where I crave ignition. I want that holy spark to fall on my dry kindling and start a blessed forest fire that will rage through all the dead vegetation and desiccated treefall in my soul and roast me until I am clean.
I don’t care if it hurts. Hell, I WANT it to hurt. There are far worse things in life than pain.
And pain can cleanse too. It has a way of clarifying the mind by shifting you onto the adrenal plane and thus driving out all those messy monkey brain thoughts going in all directions at the same time and leaving you with a much clearer view.
And what is a little pain compared to that kind of reward?
It’s like a five dollar ticket to paradise, baby.
So light the fire then build it higher, bitch. I want it good and hot when I dive in. The flames have a lot of work to do if they are going to flash fry the filth from my flesh.
I want the fire to burn me down and wring me out like a scourging fever that takes the feverish one within a stone’s throw of oblivion but ultimately purges the illness and leaves the patient utterly broken and drained…. but healed.
I want to pile my sins together in a great and mighty pyre and then scream my prayer of sacrifice into the cold mountain air and then light the pyre and through fire sacrifice my sin and pain to the sky where they can fall as gentle rain and be rendered pure.
I want to open a vein and let my filthy blood drain out of me to be absorbed by the good clean loving earth who takes away my toxic overflow and replaces it with the purest waters from the clearest springs and let this primal purity wash the last of the deep dark taint from my tortured flesh, and let me be reborn anew, wholesome and strong.
I was a good thing once. I can be one again.
I want to take my fevered brain from my skull and rinse it in the river of time so that it may finally know peace and clarity and freedom from the ghosts that haunt it.
I want the old me to die in flames so that the new me might be reborn from its ashes.
I want renewal, dammit. I have been a modern Western philosophical fool fighting the turning of the Wheel for far too long.
Let it spin, and make me whole again. Break me and remake me as many times as it takes to finally get it right.
Even if it takes more than a lifetime.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.