Part of why one of the best gifts I ever received was a watch that set itself. I never wear a watch in my dreams. Part of how I know I'm dreaming. Part of why I get so unsettled when I don't have it. Endless wrist rubbing. Still driving back from the depths of space, but making good time. That's all I can really ask of myself. Crisis averted. Not really. Postponed. Defaulted? I don't know what the hell the word is. All I know is that the boards went up red and one by one the status lights and checks are coming back green and blinking yellow and I'm not dead.
Coming back in touch with reality. Tuning down the squelch that ran far enough out of control to induce panic. I had a dream that I could remember. It was an odd reassurance. The absence of breath snatching night terror. Sleeping without sweating. I'm learning again how to let go. The reemergence of the bridge and the division of real and manufacture. How to converse and relate. Even though I am still refusing conversation beyond essentials. I am forcing myself to do it. Because without it, people eventually forget you. I can and do spend days without actually talking. I used to have fairly corrupted speech patterns. Hearing sentences try to come out of my mouth was offensive to my own ears. Still is sometimes. Because I know I can be so much clearer on paper. That and conversation was such a weapon so often used against me growing up. I never much liked it. I guess if I had my way everyone would have their vocal chords cut out of them at birth and we would all speak through written word.
But I don't have my way. And it's not a bad thing. I am a minority intelligence. Trapped in a minority format. Cased in a pretty decent body. I've got that going for me. Can't complain on that front. I could use an extra few inches of height though. Went to get a new license before my birthday and current one expired and the woman at the motor vehicle administration desk asked me if I was still 5'10". I thought: yes, you feckless drawn on eyebrowed 60 year old duffle of a snootch! Gotta work on my height complex. Because there was no way in hell any stranger deserves that sort of first response over an honest question. What I said was: yep, still short as hell. She laughed. I was glad I made the right choice on that one.
I stepped out into the alleyway beside my house and the sun was oppressive. My eyes have been unprepared for bright days for as long as I can remember. When I look directly at the sky it feels like it vibrates my skull. When I was younger, the winter sky was the worst to suck into my sockets. It literally hurt to look up against a flat noon overcast. It hurt to look near it. You get used to the pain though. And then you spend a few days indoors and the pain takes your breath away.
I don't hate the daytime. I know it's necessary. My skin feels better after a good sun drenching. Mechanically, I operate better with higher fidelity in my eye reads to mind writes. Fewer hallucinations, sometimes, but not a tight enough correlation to make me believe the two are connected, but enough in common to at least give it a shot on the regular. And then, sometimes, I just hate being seen. Sometimes I think, people simply knowing someone like me exists is a burdensome thought they'd probably not entertain if they didn't have to. I suppose I wouldn't if I had my way. But who ever really does.
Something smells like cloves around here and I have no idea what.
I started a serial, but have yet to publish it. A bad beginning. There is a massive disconnect between my ability to express the images I want to express and the images I am envisioning that I want to express. I'm thinking I will do it anyway and learn as I go. Not like I'm getting into a graduate program in my lifetime. Aw don't say that? Just being pragmatic so I don't waste energy pining for nonsense. My chances are probably somewhere in the atmosphere of spaceman and race car driver by now. So I'm just going to continue to try to develop on my own. Can't really ask for more, and with everything flaming out so unpredictably, why would you or I really want more? You can't get in trouble if you're asleep. You can't fail out of school if you're not in. You can't crash a motorcycle into a freight train if you don't own one. However, you can die in space, without ever once going to space camp. That is a fact. Write that one down. There will be a test. At some point.
The good thing, probably the best thing, about damaging yourself without ruining yourself is that it makes it impossible to damage yourself again, without maximum effort and eating one hell of a lot more pain, until you've healed. The down side is you now know where the line used to be and can take it a little farther. Sometimes a lot farther. The up side of knowing where the line lies is knowing how to skirt it and test it again without making the same mistakes (e.g. whatever doesn't kill you makes you more than you were). That is the usual application for me. It's not always expanding limits. Sometimes it's just learning the rules that govern your unique physiology. Your unfortunate mind body marriage.
Staring into the barrel of another alley morning. It burns, but we deal. You can't hide from the sun forever and the world is calling. I am looking forward to 27. I hope 27 is looking forward to me with eyes just as hard. Just as star drowned. Just as ready. If you want to avoid serious injury, you have to pull the knife almost as hard, but no harder, than you push.
///Deadmau5 - "One Trick Pony"
///Deadmau5 - "One Trick Pony"
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