Clean with alcohol only. Do not attempt to replace blown fuses. Do not remove access panels. Return to certified mechanic for regular maintenance. Made in the USA.
12/31/15
The Best Thing
about age is that as you trade indestructibility for time faster and faster, your tolerance for pain increases at a symmetric enough rate to allow you a buffer of months, sometimes years, to change just enough to continue living, exploring, and modifying against and with the ever changing world around you.
That Instant
you realize the reason the guy you met on your way home from work and had over for some television and a beer and some laughs to help you feel some connection with the everyday world and humanize yourself is not returning your texts to hangout because he stole things from your apartment and figured you were going to notice, albeit 36 hours later.
12/25/15
Dear (______)
Dear Santa,
I know we've been at odds over the last several years. It's almost going on a dozen. I don't hate you and you don't hate me. I remember that year that I wished for only obtainable shiz. I remember that other year that I only wished for very specific and obtainable shiiii... and I got what I wished for. I'm back to setting my bars high. I hope you're back to singing in four four/
Boiling it down: I will not. That's all. There's no second part to it. As close as we will get.
///what ive been waiting for all years
I know we've been at odds over the last several years. It's almost going on a dozen. I don't hate you and you don't hate me. I remember that year that I wished for only obtainable shiz. I remember that other year that I only wished for very specific and obtainable shiiii... and I got what I wished for. I'm back to setting my bars high. I hope you're back to singing in four four/
Boiling it down: I will not. That's all. There's no second part to it. As close as we will get.
///what ive been waiting for all years
12/24/15
Prior To the Holidays
I want a tank for Christmas. Or a giant robot decked out in yellow, orange, and pink and black. Or a Gulf blue and orange Z car. Or a plot of land on which to build my miniature fortress.
I am not staying up or threatening Santa again this year. He knows what he did. Imagining a rolling and roiling knife fight with Santa Claus. Robo Claus. I imagine it going something like trying to fight Mad Pierrot. I don't need or want Christmas gifts from Santa. That dude. That guy. Nuke the North Pole. I am already drawing up the campaign posters. That's the only way we can put an end to his tyranny. The light reflected from converting the North Pole and several more latitudes to glass will balance out the weather changes from melting all of the ice. It'll save the world. A few decades later, nuke the South Pole. Just in case he pulled a super villain escape the first time. You have to let the planet rest for a minute or we'll all end up in Fallout 6.
It doesn't really feel like Christmas. I haven't talked much about holidays. We live in a different world now. The changes have crept in and grown to pillars and foundations from cells and seeds. I took a lot of time to see and understand the new world and I still am. It's been a bit of a strange year with a certain amount of disconnection and decoupling from holidays. I am pretty sure I have not delivered a single gift to anyone, including myself, on time. I guess as you get older, a certain amount of disconnection can be expected. A certain amount of migration. Not really a certain amount of migration, but certain migration in a measurable amount. There's a massive difference.
For the first time I have put up evergreens! The sensation and scent is wonderful. Not a tree. I haven't put up a tree since I made my first permanent home all my own. I've begun with a wreath hanging in front of a window. I want to put lights on it, but the hazards to myself and my cats running around with the lights off and finding games and ways to play with them are a little too great and will require more planning than I have put into it for this year. Next year we will add some layers to the design. Ornaments too. It will be pretty spectacular. By the standards of rediscovering Christmas.
I think that is what may have been happening this year. A rediscovery of the holidays, each and every one, and their redefinition as singular life has begun to solidify into a definite, if not unpredictable, course. Redefining relationships and reaffirming others and watching people change and change how they interact with you and how I interact with them. All of the elements of the galaxy and their interdependence is brought forth and thrown into sharp relief over holidays, along with how those elements are measured and quantified.
The year end look will have to be started well before the year actually ends to get everything into something resembling a timeline. I'm up for the challenge. I believe I am up for the challenge. It's not like the holidays bear no significance in this new world. It's that I am trying to better understand what their significance is. A lot like a kid trying to understand what the significance of breaking a lamp is, or drawing on the walls, or going to work, or playing in the street, or not talking to strangers, or the sun coming up, or clouds in the same sky moving in different directions, or being tired the day after staying up all night.
I'm trying to get into the Christmas spirit and think about what I want to change and affect in the next year of life. It's not my new year. Calculating what my actual age is (I haven't been celebrating my birthdays like I should): I am 30 going on 31. My thirty first birthday in my 30th iteration of life may actually be the day after Christmas. An odd alignment of perspectives I guess. I can't help chuckling. It is an odd confluence of parameters. At the intersection of sixth street and sixth street, you are at the nexus of the universe.
I do not hate the holidays. All gifts to be sent out are on a four to five week delay. Life has been exceptionally demanding; your patience is appreciated. Actually, I love them. Still ten years out from being a real boy, at the least. Those ten years will fly.
///Peanuts - "The Christmas Dance" when you've got yourself about as together as you possibly can without tampering.
I am not staying up or threatening Santa again this year. He knows what he did. Imagining a rolling and roiling knife fight with Santa Claus. Robo Claus. I imagine it going something like trying to fight Mad Pierrot. I don't need or want Christmas gifts from Santa. That dude. That guy. Nuke the North Pole. I am already drawing up the campaign posters. That's the only way we can put an end to his tyranny. The light reflected from converting the North Pole and several more latitudes to glass will balance out the weather changes from melting all of the ice. It'll save the world. A few decades later, nuke the South Pole. Just in case he pulled a super villain escape the first time. You have to let the planet rest for a minute or we'll all end up in Fallout 6.
It doesn't really feel like Christmas. I haven't talked much about holidays. We live in a different world now. The changes have crept in and grown to pillars and foundations from cells and seeds. I took a lot of time to see and understand the new world and I still am. It's been a bit of a strange year with a certain amount of disconnection and decoupling from holidays. I am pretty sure I have not delivered a single gift to anyone, including myself, on time. I guess as you get older, a certain amount of disconnection can be expected. A certain amount of migration. Not really a certain amount of migration, but certain migration in a measurable amount. There's a massive difference.
For the first time I have put up evergreens! The sensation and scent is wonderful. Not a tree. I haven't put up a tree since I made my first permanent home all my own. I've begun with a wreath hanging in front of a window. I want to put lights on it, but the hazards to myself and my cats running around with the lights off and finding games and ways to play with them are a little too great and will require more planning than I have put into it for this year. Next year we will add some layers to the design. Ornaments too. It will be pretty spectacular. By the standards of rediscovering Christmas.
I think that is what may have been happening this year. A rediscovery of the holidays, each and every one, and their redefinition as singular life has begun to solidify into a definite, if not unpredictable, course. Redefining relationships and reaffirming others and watching people change and change how they interact with you and how I interact with them. All of the elements of the galaxy and their interdependence is brought forth and thrown into sharp relief over holidays, along with how those elements are measured and quantified.
The year end look will have to be started well before the year actually ends to get everything into something resembling a timeline. I'm up for the challenge. I believe I am up for the challenge. It's not like the holidays bear no significance in this new world. It's that I am trying to better understand what their significance is. A lot like a kid trying to understand what the significance of breaking a lamp is, or drawing on the walls, or going to work, or playing in the street, or not talking to strangers, or the sun coming up, or clouds in the same sky moving in different directions, or being tired the day after staying up all night.
I'm trying to get into the Christmas spirit and think about what I want to change and affect in the next year of life. It's not my new year. Calculating what my actual age is (I haven't been celebrating my birthdays like I should): I am 30 going on 31. My thirty first birthday in my 30th iteration of life may actually be the day after Christmas. An odd alignment of perspectives I guess. I can't help chuckling. It is an odd confluence of parameters. At the intersection of sixth street and sixth street, you are at the nexus of the universe.
I do not hate the holidays. All gifts to be sent out are on a four to five week delay. Life has been exceptionally demanding; your patience is appreciated. Actually, I love them. Still ten years out from being a real boy, at the least. Those ten years will fly.
///Peanuts - "The Christmas Dance" when you've got yourself about as together as you possibly can without tampering.
That Instant
You realize your air conditioner is still in your window for good reason. Thunder storm downpour on Christmas eve? Sure. I still have to convince my body Winter is around the corner. When that transition actually happens and you have to wear a spacesuit again for the first time, it's going to be epic and the vertigo undeniable.
12/19/15
In Consideration of Empathy
You attack and beat yourself up over your inability to see eye to eye with your brother. Eye to eye about what? Everything. Not everything, just things now. The formation and configuration of our immediate family. Who funds what and why. Who goes and does what and where. Who can. Why do you want to see eye to eye with him on that? You just watched a video of yourself dancing and you thought it was awesome, but the truth is if bodies could have Tourette Syndrome, you would probably be the poster boy with Elaine Benes as the prom Queen. Why do you want to see eye to eye with him at all? You are two completely different human beings, down to sexual orientations and the arrangement of your individual eyelashes. You are not supposed to agree. You are about as different as they come between siblings. You do realize this, I hope. You are a stamped coin. Do you get it now? You are never going to see eye to eye about just about everything. If you want to see the other side, you are probably going to have to bend time and space and, last I heard, that shits pretty difficult with a thousand acre facility so good luck trying to do it with a few cubic inches of fatty gray matter.
You don't have to see anything his way. He doesn't have to see anything your way. What is this weird aggression toward a shared emotional experience? It's not there. Stop looking. I don't say that as a warning sign like marking something so damaging and toxic you will die immediately, if not soon after. I say that as a time saver. I say that as a wayfarer. Stop looking. There is nothing at the end of that ocean. There is nothing on the other side of that desert. The globe does not loop around. It is infinite in the darkness beyond the stars. Stop looking. Occasionally whip your binoculars up to your face and take down the range, time, and windage and then duck back down into the reeds. You do love him, but you do hate him too. Not for any particular reason. Just envy. Change positions. Skulls, skin, bones, you do know you wouldn't be able to change circuitry. Can't I? No. Mightn't I? No. Impossible-r-y-ing I? No, and that's definitely not a word or fragment. What the hell is that? I just stroked off for a minute. What were you saying?
I was saying, we're never going to see eye to eye, so stop beating yourself up when you try and do not. You're not a bad person. You're not a flaming heap of garbage to be kept at arms length all of the time. Sometimes you cannot control your volatility. It's a fine problem to have. You don't have to kill him and you don't have to fight him. Just let him be himself and you be yourself and the chips will land where they please and are directed. Your engagement with the world can never be his. It can be emulated. Where's the fun in tracing? Where's the existence in tracing? Do not get angry with yourself for being irrevocably, irreconcilably, different. No, you are not stupid for trying. Anyone in their right mind would see their closest genetic match and want to touch it like a mirror to make sure what they saw was not a reflection. You are me? No. I am me and you are you, and never the two shall meet.
///Dan Deacon - "Feel the Lightning" polishing the brass on warships that will and need never leave Earth. Fear is healthy. A degree of worry is healthy. Don't take it too far.
You don't have to see anything his way. He doesn't have to see anything your way. What is this weird aggression toward a shared emotional experience? It's not there. Stop looking. I don't say that as a warning sign like marking something so damaging and toxic you will die immediately, if not soon after. I say that as a time saver. I say that as a wayfarer. Stop looking. There is nothing at the end of that ocean. There is nothing on the other side of that desert. The globe does not loop around. It is infinite in the darkness beyond the stars. Stop looking. Occasionally whip your binoculars up to your face and take down the range, time, and windage and then duck back down into the reeds. You do love him, but you do hate him too. Not for any particular reason. Just envy. Change positions. Skulls, skin, bones, you do know you wouldn't be able to change circuitry. Can't I? No. Mightn't I? No. Impossible-r-y-ing I? No, and that's definitely not a word or fragment. What the hell is that? I just stroked off for a minute. What were you saying?
I was saying, we're never going to see eye to eye, so stop beating yourself up when you try and do not. You're not a bad person. You're not a flaming heap of garbage to be kept at arms length all of the time. Sometimes you cannot control your volatility. It's a fine problem to have. You don't have to kill him and you don't have to fight him. Just let him be himself and you be yourself and the chips will land where they please and are directed. Your engagement with the world can never be his. It can be emulated. Where's the fun in tracing? Where's the existence in tracing? Do not get angry with yourself for being irrevocably, irreconcilably, different. No, you are not stupid for trying. Anyone in their right mind would see their closest genetic match and want to touch it like a mirror to make sure what they saw was not a reflection. You are me? No. I am me and you are you, and never the two shall meet.
///Dan Deacon - "Feel the Lightning" polishing the brass on warships that will and need never leave Earth. Fear is healthy. A degree of worry is healthy. Don't take it too far.
12/17/15
That Instant
You get excited that the gadget you ordered from China is absolutely zipping around the globe and is in Connecticut already until you remember the abbreviation for Connecticut is CT, not CN, and also it makes no sense to fly around two continents and an ocean when the Pacific is right there and, yep, it is still making its way through China.
12/13/15
Bonus Track 2
waiting for the button to be pressed for the awesome release of good work to be done, good baby sweet barbecue jesus on a spit, push the damn button that turns that light from red to green, honey bear!
///Django Django - (Wor) you have to know who you are wearing your leash for and when that alarm goes... you know you have to go from zero to all in .2 seconds. i hate waiting. rumble rumble rumble. it is not time to ring the bell yet. i cannot wait for the next project to sink my teeth into. it's gotten to a point of physical discomfort thinking about it. i cannot wait to see the next house. i am going to eat it with great glory by moonlight and teeth large enough to fit a megalodon skeleton
///Django Django - (Wor) you have to know who you are wearing your leash for and when that alarm goes... you know you have to go from zero to all in .2 seconds. i hate waiting. rumble rumble rumble. it is not time to ring the bell yet. i cannot wait for the next project to sink my teeth into. it's gotten to a point of physical discomfort thinking about it. i cannot wait to see the next house. i am going to eat it with great glory by moonlight and teeth large enough to fit a megalodon skeleton
Caps Locked, Similar
I think the biggest thing to get out of the way was talking about how locked up I was becoming. It still governs everything and every choice that I make. The way that my mind works. I don't like to think of it as a disability, it is. Talking to my eternal optimist. The children are in the classroom. It's a bit soggy and untrue, but it is you too!
It really is. Will you dance with me? We can have a fabulous time, a gorgeous time, a wonderfurousfantabugloriousshanannigonkulous time. HAHAHAHA oh yes, oh yes. No bass necessary if you are willing to cut a rug. Down butler street to penn avenue to the point and back up the river trail underneath 40th street bridge and up top on 62nd to watch the sun rise. Kill em, kill em, kill em, ac dc-s? That was a good drum break.
Some things make me smile and I don't want to back everything over it like trying to kill a raccoon you hit at five A.M. If hand outs are coming out lets enjoy them and be one with the weekend. No? Obviously, you have no nerves in your extremities because I defy you to try and find hard drugs that are not spray paint and brick based at this hour.
///Starkey - (Eris) up from the depths
It really is. Will you dance with me? We can have a fabulous time, a gorgeous time, a wonderfurousfantabugloriousshanannigonkulous time. HAHAHAHA oh yes, oh yes. No bass necessary if you are willing to cut a rug. Down butler street to penn avenue to the point and back up the river trail underneath 40th street bridge and up top on 62nd to watch the sun rise. Kill em, kill em, kill em, ac dc-s? That was a good drum break.
Some things make me smile and I don't want to back everything over it like trying to kill a raccoon you hit at five A.M. If hand outs are coming out lets enjoy them and be one with the weekend. No? Obviously, you have no nerves in your extremities because I defy you to try and find hard drugs that are not spray paint and brick based at this hour.
///Starkey - (Eris) up from the depths
Don't Say "No" To Me
Who do you really trust? Who do you believe? Who will actually believe you??? Who just listens and nods and "yeah yeah yeah, tell me more" fuck you. Seriously, who do you trust? Who do you trust who will not try to tamper with your memories later and create new ones because you don't know who they were talking to at that specific time because you were not going out of your way to take down the exact specifics of that particular conversation and the only thing you have to know that it happened are physical artifacts?
Yes, it is weird! It is okay to say that it is weird, because it is! Are you drunk? Are you high? No, I just want to be sure that who you are talking to now gets your message to who will execute is all. Long short story: aye, I can't carry on a conversation one on one if it's more than one sentence. I laugh so hard saying that, but yes, it's getting worse by increments.
I don't know what to do about it. Half empty, half full. Maybe I've gotten so good at it that it sounds seamless. Or maybe a "?". I am deluding myself. It rings as true as a tuning fork struck in a wood. If a tuning fork rings and you are the only one around to hear it, does it make a sound? Where is the line with you? What are you really capable of? I can't help laughing. What you owe me. What you owe me is what I want!
I want to dream all of the time. Sleep all of the time. Sleep to access dreaming. Being awake and alive, breathing, is fantastic; breathing has its perks. I can help people. I can be of use. I can have utility. I can have staying power. I can create memories for other people. Dreaming is beautiful. I cannot create memories or trouble for other folks while I am sleeping and dreaming. In dreams, I can be whatever I want to be, but spiders come as large as television screens when I'm not careful to set their sizes. When I am dreaming I can be as sexual and touchy feely as I want to be without creeping out your friends. In dreams everyone carries a sword. While you sleep, however, your body dies and consumes itself until your dreaming consciousness ceases to exist. I have to be awake to keep my dreaming self alive.
That fact burns my core.
I guess what really keeps us the most uneasy is not being able to know who is taking advantage of your constant disposition. Who is actually helping and who is aiding and abetting the you's you are not aware of that you discover through their paper trail. If you are, I will find out eventually. And there will be questions that will need answers. The pathetic thing is they will probably have answers ready and you will not know the difference.
So what? Sew buttons. Kill them all. Save yourself. For what? Conversation with you? That's a terrible plan. They are using you. It's not symbiotic. Your currency doesn't translate and the currency that does is one to one at best. An unsolvable puzzle. Their currency doesn't convert to yours either. Passing monopoly capital between unmatched sets of Milton Bradley games. I'll be the wheel barrow! Okay, I'll be the millennium falcon! On second thought, I'll be the boot. And I'll be an iron?
Re-establishing the base of trust is one of the hardest parts about attempting to return from a compound fracture of the mind. If what you were doing got so far out of line that you wound up with part of your consciousness sticking out of your skull, you have screwed up badly. Whatever fail safes and flags you put up inside your head to prevent it were somehow run down, knocked over, ignored, or invisible and you may have slowed or performed a rolling stop near them, but all in all the cumulative effect is you blew past them and we are saving you from ultimate destruction with the emergency brake. All fins out. Take it as close to an atmosphere as you possibly can without landing. Slow down and listen. That sound you are hearing is not silence. That sound you are hearing is alarms screaming at the tops of their electronic lungs. Wires burned through carrying too much current. Stop, listen, breath the scent, make some damn corrections.
Yes, we can live like this, but not for long. The clock stopped four days ago. You are still sitting on a volatile warhead. You cannot defuse it without killing yourself, but you can build a new clock. Get to work! We are not easily convinced, but individually each of us is. I won't say "no" to you.
///can you hear the sounds they make when they scratch against the floor?
Yes, it is weird! It is okay to say that it is weird, because it is! Are you drunk? Are you high? No, I just want to be sure that who you are talking to now gets your message to who will execute is all. Long short story: aye, I can't carry on a conversation one on one if it's more than one sentence. I laugh so hard saying that, but yes, it's getting worse by increments.
I don't know what to do about it. Half empty, half full. Maybe I've gotten so good at it that it sounds seamless. Or maybe a "?". I am deluding myself. It rings as true as a tuning fork struck in a wood. If a tuning fork rings and you are the only one around to hear it, does it make a sound? Where is the line with you? What are you really capable of? I can't help laughing. What you owe me. What you owe me is what I want!
I want to dream all of the time. Sleep all of the time. Sleep to access dreaming. Being awake and alive, breathing, is fantastic; breathing has its perks. I can help people. I can be of use. I can have utility. I can have staying power. I can create memories for other people. Dreaming is beautiful. I cannot create memories or trouble for other folks while I am sleeping and dreaming. In dreams, I can be whatever I want to be, but spiders come as large as television screens when I'm not careful to set their sizes. When I am dreaming I can be as sexual and touchy feely as I want to be without creeping out your friends. In dreams everyone carries a sword. While you sleep, however, your body dies and consumes itself until your dreaming consciousness ceases to exist. I have to be awake to keep my dreaming self alive.
That fact burns my core.
I guess what really keeps us the most uneasy is not being able to know who is taking advantage of your constant disposition. Who is actually helping and who is aiding and abetting the you's you are not aware of that you discover through their paper trail. If you are, I will find out eventually. And there will be questions that will need answers. The pathetic thing is they will probably have answers ready and you will not know the difference.
So what? Sew buttons. Kill them all. Save yourself. For what? Conversation with you? That's a terrible plan. They are using you. It's not symbiotic. Your currency doesn't translate and the currency that does is one to one at best. An unsolvable puzzle. Their currency doesn't convert to yours either. Passing monopoly capital between unmatched sets of Milton Bradley games. I'll be the wheel barrow! Okay, I'll be the millennium falcon! On second thought, I'll be the boot. And I'll be an iron?
Re-establishing the base of trust is one of the hardest parts about attempting to return from a compound fracture of the mind. If what you were doing got so far out of line that you wound up with part of your consciousness sticking out of your skull, you have screwed up badly. Whatever fail safes and flags you put up inside your head to prevent it were somehow run down, knocked over, ignored, or invisible and you may have slowed or performed a rolling stop near them, but all in all the cumulative effect is you blew past them and we are saving you from ultimate destruction with the emergency brake. All fins out. Take it as close to an atmosphere as you possibly can without landing. Slow down and listen. That sound you are hearing is not silence. That sound you are hearing is alarms screaming at the tops of their electronic lungs. Wires burned through carrying too much current. Stop, listen, breath the scent, make some damn corrections.
Yes, we can live like this, but not for long. The clock stopped four days ago. You are still sitting on a volatile warhead. You cannot defuse it without killing yourself, but you can build a new clock. Get to work! We are not easily convinced, but individually each of us is. I won't say "no" to you.
///can you hear the sounds they make when they scratch against the floor?
That Instant
you realize you are not ready to reengage with society at large on any scale just yet. The insulation is there not just for their sake, but your own as well.
Schizophrenia
I am afraid to say anything because I am not sure where I am. It's scary as hell. Scary as all get out. Who is listening? Please, do not take me away. Bring everyone because you are going to need them to fill the body bags before I get to you.
I am terrified. It is horrible. Things got very far out of line. Very far out of acceptable lines. And I let them go and part of me is screaming and shouting you deserve this. YOU DESERVE THIS. YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN IT COMING. How could I? Everything sounded and seemed better and better and more and more and not in the way bipolar can take you down at the backs of your knees like a length of pipe or baseball bat and before I knew it I was running with my head in front of my feet and telling them we can do it and we kept tripping and we've got it and tripping and we've got it and then the best to hope for could have been a solid and well orchestrated face plant. Instead we kept chasing our own head with our feet and doubling over to seem more normal and more joyous and more grateful and happier than what was actual and we chased our dragon of normalcy without acknowledging our unique chemistry and fears and rage and bottled and sold and bought and told our way to a somersault.
Have you ever broken your nose and deserved it? I thought I could pull it off. It was too good to be true. I am in the middle of a hard reboot and I have someone racing up my ass asking if I am okay. I am not. I am horrible. Every other thought through my brain is fucking killing someone or myself. I know you believe you are helping by asking me if I would like to play games or go out or eat food. No. I would like to sit and process what the hell is going through our minds. Because I don't want to play games with you. I want to drive to your house and buddy up for a while and then stab you to death. I want to cut the skin all around the circumference of your face and try to tear it off in one piece and then dangle it in front of a mirror. I don't want to be cheered up. I want to shoot my father dead between the eyes with a single .762 round and then burn his house to the ground. I want to grab my brother's right hand and stick it in garbage disposal and flick the switch and see if he shits himself. I want to laugh until I can't help it and let a fart loose. I want to dislocate someone's elbow again. I want to say hello with a headbutt so dead on we both see stars while exchanging pleasantries. I want to sink my teeth into something. Not that I cannot feel, but if you're going to break my nose, break my damn nose.
I've been over extended. We have been. In ways we could not imagine. The tax is heavy and still you have to smile with it. I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS. Work problems. Choking on the vomit of a successful swallow. Could be a decent way to go.
I am in an unfamiliar place where a physical pain tolerance means nothing against a mental pain tolerance.
The best way I can describe it is being 30 seconds out of sync from everything that is happening around you and that is when you are already clued in from days of study and suspicion against yourself that actually turned out to be true. Once you've finally caught up with your goings and comings and your committee and friends and other friends and put everything together... the closest you can get it is a true time barrier. Inside the moment you cannot see anything. Thirty seconds out you can see the overlap. One second out from thirty you are back in the moment and present.
I know I've burned through a lot of time. In terms of erasure. I'm not sure which one of us is doing the erasing lately. This is very dangerous. Very unacceptable. By lately, we mean in the last months. It's no good. We are not a head case. We're sliding that way. I'm not sure how to correct it.
The last thing I want is to become a danger to folks I know. I think it may have something to do with pressure and trying to fit forms you cannot fit. Entirely possible. It is good to draw distinct lines between never cross and sometimes cross. Without never cross there is no you. And without sometimes cross there is no me. And that is good.
I am terrified. It is horrible. Things got very far out of line. Very far out of acceptable lines. And I let them go and part of me is screaming and shouting you deserve this. YOU DESERVE THIS. YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN IT COMING. How could I? Everything sounded and seemed better and better and more and more and not in the way bipolar can take you down at the backs of your knees like a length of pipe or baseball bat and before I knew it I was running with my head in front of my feet and telling them we can do it and we kept tripping and we've got it and tripping and we've got it and then the best to hope for could have been a solid and well orchestrated face plant. Instead we kept chasing our own head with our feet and doubling over to seem more normal and more joyous and more grateful and happier than what was actual and we chased our dragon of normalcy without acknowledging our unique chemistry and fears and rage and bottled and sold and bought and told our way to a somersault.
Have you ever broken your nose and deserved it? I thought I could pull it off. It was too good to be true. I am in the middle of a hard reboot and I have someone racing up my ass asking if I am okay. I am not. I am horrible. Every other thought through my brain is fucking killing someone or myself. I know you believe you are helping by asking me if I would like to play games or go out or eat food. No. I would like to sit and process what the hell is going through our minds. Because I don't want to play games with you. I want to drive to your house and buddy up for a while and then stab you to death. I want to cut the skin all around the circumference of your face and try to tear it off in one piece and then dangle it in front of a mirror. I don't want to be cheered up. I want to shoot my father dead between the eyes with a single .762 round and then burn his house to the ground. I want to grab my brother's right hand and stick it in garbage disposal and flick the switch and see if he shits himself. I want to laugh until I can't help it and let a fart loose. I want to dislocate someone's elbow again. I want to say hello with a headbutt so dead on we both see stars while exchanging pleasantries. I want to sink my teeth into something. Not that I cannot feel, but if you're going to break my nose, break my damn nose.
I've been over extended. We have been. In ways we could not imagine. The tax is heavy and still you have to smile with it. I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS. Work problems. Choking on the vomit of a successful swallow. Could be a decent way to go.
I am in an unfamiliar place where a physical pain tolerance means nothing against a mental pain tolerance.
The best way I can describe it is being 30 seconds out of sync from everything that is happening around you and that is when you are already clued in from days of study and suspicion against yourself that actually turned out to be true. Once you've finally caught up with your goings and comings and your committee and friends and other friends and put everything together... the closest you can get it is a true time barrier. Inside the moment you cannot see anything. Thirty seconds out you can see the overlap. One second out from thirty you are back in the moment and present.
I know I've burned through a lot of time. In terms of erasure. I'm not sure which one of us is doing the erasing lately. This is very dangerous. Very unacceptable. By lately, we mean in the last months. It's no good. We are not a head case. We're sliding that way. I'm not sure how to correct it.
The last thing I want is to become a danger to folks I know. I think it may have something to do with pressure and trying to fit forms you cannot fit. Entirely possible. It is good to draw distinct lines between never cross and sometimes cross. Without never cross there is no you. And without sometimes cross there is no me. And that is good.
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