AUTHOR.CALHO: If I didn't write it, I would be hitch hiking cross country to Maine and then Alaska in that order. While taking frequent breaks to spread leaflets. And sit in diners. And write on things because I wasn't at a computer. I may still do that in a few years. Writing this also helps me forget about and better understand the limitations of being human, and keeps me busy enough to allow me no free time to burn the world down.

THEMATIC.ABOUT : Collapse often. The things that hold people together and hold them apart and scatter brains. The things that make thoughts go boom. The things that ooh and aah and [expletive deleted]. Sometimes poking around the margins where responsibility ends and the only one to look to is the Original Equipment Manufacturer and say "but, I already pressed 9 for more options and the menus are exactly the same. Can you just replace it?" The answer will be: "please hold." Sometimes hanging out in dark corners. Sometimes following the train tracks. Looking for ways out and ways in and all the while sharing the things seen and heard and done and drawn and written and scorched and healed and teased and caged and dreamed along the way.

4/14/14

Cause for Concern

There are very real causes for concern.  I didn't want to say anything, but I am getting backed into a corner sooner than I imagined.  I'm having some, many a several, difficulties with normal conversation.  Even trying to meet up with people makes me violently ill.  I'm not used to that.  Who should be?  Introversion is supposed to be a quiet thing.  I'm tired of having to wear sunglasses in grocery stores because the lights vibrate too much and it makes me tear up and then everyone thinks you've gone through some sort of tragedy, but really you just wanted to buy some apples and you had to gut it out beyond your normal radius to get them.

I am a violent person.  I know this.  no matter what we do we always try to do our best to take ownership and clean up our messes.  Something my papa never did.  Or maybe he did do in his own way.  Whatever he did, it was thorough in its reach.  At any rate he never explained so I have license and agency.  Because I asked him.  Passive aggressively.  He made a woman out of me I suppose.  A woman with more power than mama ever had.  And that's good.

I'm losing the war on my chemistry and I do not like.  I do not want it.  Pain is one thing.  Passenger is another.  I do not like not being able to express clearly.  It's taking more and more work to maintain clear communication and it's not the drugs because I've been free and clear of paint and coke and pretty much every sniffable and injectable and I'm not fucking with my chemistry set at all.  That's what's been so frustrating.  No assists.  No boosters.  And still fracturing.  It makes no sense.

That I can do this, type on a keyboard easy peasy, and then struggle mightily with trying to string words together in real time.  And I've been very good about tuning down the violence too.  There is no reward for that.  There should be.  THERE SHOULD BE.  I should fucking be paid for that.  

I keep and will continue to argue that I am not a reject. I am a citizen.  It is not my planet, but I don't just live on it.  I am a part of it.  I do need the means and I will subject you to retribution at some point and these are my life goals and everything is building to it and I have no sex and I am an agent of a movement and you will know me when it's done and I will never place a gun to my own skull and I will be responsible and I will find you and force you to answer for everything you have done because I am not God, but I am me and whether you like it or not I just want to be safe with you.

It's difficult to think and be reasonable.  Reason out the voices.  They must be reasoned with.  They aren't monkeys.  They are to be unnamed and it's very frustrating to know that I get to know them and they can never be ....  it hurts.  It hurts less than naming and that's acceptable.  It's not about ferocity.  They punish me in ways you may understand.  Even with that understanding there is no equivalent exchange.  I know I need to get back on medicine.  I know I have to.  I refuse.

It's not a team effort.  It's just me.  No metaphor.  I refuse.  I will fucking burn this house to the ground before I do that again and I'm not happy about it.  I am furious.  Why does everything boil down to money?  Why did you leave me here?  What kind of advice do you fucking expect me to give that does not play directly back into history or roundabout to the same spot?  I don't understand.  I do.  Normalcy.  I can do normalcy.  I have it, down pat.  What I do not have is normalcy.  There's a difference between the two.

I will not quit the battle.  There is very real cause for concern.  Things are developing faster than expected.

Delusions.   I will not cash out.  I have faced the dragon, but no apotheosis.  There is no way out and it's not a death grip.

I wish you had more time.

I was ill prepared, but armored well.  Armor is no workable substitute.




///Count Basic - "Gotta Jazz"   there are things i have to do.  things that must be done, come hell and high water.  fault me.  these are faults.  they must be done, but i am a citizen and you will not deport me today, or tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that.
at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)