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.

Impossible Happens, Sort Of

Remember all of those changes I promised before? Well I do. I'm not going to quote myself. That would just be arrogant. Sort of. But the point is I've been staying up way too late so I'm going to sleep right now. I've been practicing with the brand spanking new used pen tablet and I am loving it like pedophiles love the portrait offices at Wal Mart. I thought it would months or years before I ever got a chance to use one, but I was gifted one by a pal I went to high school with. Easily the best thing that's happened to me this year. I am so excited to play with it some more.

Here's the first thing I made with it:



Ultimately that will end up being the background for auralport.blogspot.com, a.k.a. the poetry corner thingy. Aren't you proud of me? Well I'm proud of me. I mean if I had to pick a guy and the only criteria the head office gave me was that they wanted a winner who could also punt a baby over a small house in a pinch I would definitely pick me. Plus if you ever found yourself stranded in some Russian frontier town and the only thing standing between us and death by murderous drunk Siberian bear men was an Indiana Jones style drinking contest I would win it by a mile and instead of getting killed we'd get that weird amulet thing and find the ark and then take over the world and then fire our boss and then make me permanent employee of the month and change the future employees of the month to assistants to the employee of the month and the only thing I would have the assistants do is battle to the death using only supplies found in the supply closet and all for my personal amusement because I am more awesome than that evil guy in The Road Warrior.

In short: raucous applause for this guy. Did I say 5 days to implement all of those changes? I think I did. How about tomorrow? Tomorrow will be the big day.

And of course, my apologies for the poetry. Updates will now resume their daily march.

///Four Tet - "Glue of the World" I love it when a song is well mastered and then the producer turns it lo-fi and you get all kinds of interference and a glossless lossy sound and it pulls the whole track together and sets it apart from the realm of atmospheric and puts it squarely in the realm of meaningful whether the song's author injected the meaning and emotion or not. It sounds cheesy to say, but it reminds me of a choose your own adventure book except instead of the song writer telling you how to feel, the song writer is asking you how it makes you feel.