(no subject)
taking my time
Sorry I haven't updated in ages. I'm going through what I might look back on as the weirdest phase in my life. Limbo, you might call it, I don‘t feel dead but in some distorted way, I don’t feel alive. What more can I say?
Last week stood surreal in nearly all places and climaxed with the clarity offered to me by a dead comic. I’ve probably written this in here before but I have written it again because, my friends, this is some of the wisdom I cherish like a widow would cherish her wedding ring:
“The world is like a ride at an amusement park. And when you choose to go on it you think it’s real because that’s how powerful our minds are. And the ride goes up and down and round and round. It has thrills and chills, and it’s very brightly coloured and it’s very loud and it’s fun, for a while. Some people have been on this ride for a long time and they begin to question - is this real or is this just a ride? And other people have remembered and they come back to us. They say, “hey, don’t worry, don’t be afraid, ever, because this is just a ride.” And we… kill those people. Haha “SHUT HIM UP! We have a lot invested in this ride. SHUT HIM UP! Look at my furrows of worry. Look at my big bank account and my family. This just has to be real.” It’s just a ride. But we always kill those good guys who try and tell us that, you ever notice that? And let the demons run amok. But it doesn’t matter because: it’s just a ride. And we can change it any time we want. It’s only a choice. No effort, no work, no job, no savings and money. A choice right now between fear and love.”
And it was like that.
On Sunday, my mother called. I sat through the entire conversation balancing on a fine line that lingered between sobbing, throwing up and silence enforced by a weakening sense of fear and loneliness. What the hell was I thinking? I could barely hear what my mother was saying but I knew that in the silence when she didn’t say anything she wanted to hold me and in the times I shut my eyes, I wanted to run to her. But neither of those things happened. I didn’t say much cos I didn’t want her to hear that I was breaking down and then she went.
She might never know how much I hurt at times like that.
I got off the phone and tried to write but I couldn’t put anything together, it all just fell apart in my head. I smoked the remainder of a joint and sat in front of some mushrooms. I ate five of them and then went downstairs to prepare myself for whatever it was I was expecting.
After an hour and a half, the room got smaller and my headphones nearly pushed my head in.
I lied in bed that night and thought I should pray. It had been a while since my last time and I made the sign of the cross on my hunched shoulders and shut my eyes. I asked Him for help. If anything, that is all I wanted: help. “I don’t know what I’m doing right now and it would be awfully nice if you could help me out. Just point me in the right direction. Lemme know where I stand and that. Nothing’s very clear at the moment.” My trail of thought paused. “I don’t know if I should say this but what if there’s nothing? What if, right now, I am just triggering electric impulses that instantly dissipate in my head and I really am all alone? What if there is no God and I’m just nattering to myself?” I apologised just in case someone was listening and went to sleep.
I woke up and my mushrooms had gone almost completely black and they smelled sour and stale. After my lecture, I dried them while I bought lunch and then figured I may as well eat them all there and then. So I did. I got on with my day. I sat watching TV; my head felt big and my stomach felt heavy. I thought that was the trip and was generally quite annoyed about it all. I swore never to do mushrooms again, citing them as a big waste of time and money.
Then it hit me two hours later. As I stared at the TV, the colours became more enhanced and the walls began to wave. They would fade into an expanse of ivory nothing and then return waving like before. Everything bobbed like I was floating in the sea and I stared at it all and let out the odd giggle. My head fell back into the sofa and I rolled about shutting my eyes and seeing everything on my eyelids. Tears without emotion ran down my cheeks, into the fold of my mouth and then off my chin.
I watched the evening news. I had no choice but to follow the television. Japanese dying in a train crash and politicians lying to each other and everyone else and themselves to the point it all just becomes fact because nobody remembers what the truth is.
Afterwards I cried at some lady that died of cancer. She died with no one helping her but her loved one who could only stand by as her life ebbed away. If the mushrooms had opened my mind, TV was rubbing vinegar into it.
That ended and then Dan got home. Pike left the room and Dan asked me if I had a good weekend, and I told him that I’d eaten a load of mushrooms.
“Don’t tell the others.” I said. They never cottoned on. I was well and truly out of it. The floor was like a waterbed and I wobbled all over it. Dan was meant to go to the pub with them but they left without him. He came to McDonald’s with me. I wasn’t hungry but I had to eat at some point. I’d rather have lay on the sofa and laughed at stuff but I went anyway.
There were horrible people in McDonald’s; men that looked like incarnations of the most evil rats and I was scared of them. I kept forgetting the order. It all tasted of mushrooms. I went back home and the trip finished.
“There must be some kind of way out of here.” Said the joker to the thief.
That night, I looked out of the window and tried to remember everything as it had been when I first moved in. I had spent all day with my mother; she treated me to a Pizza Express and let me have a starter, mains and dessert then she took me here and left me. Seven months later, I still haven’t been completely finished by the wolves.
Sorry I haven't updated in ages. I'm going through what I might look back on as the weirdest phase in my life. Limbo, you might call it, I don‘t feel dead but in some distorted way, I don’t feel alive. What more can I say?
Last week stood surreal in nearly all places and climaxed with the clarity offered to me by a dead comic. I’ve probably written this in here before but I have written it again because, my friends, this is some of the wisdom I cherish like a widow would cherish her wedding ring:
“The world is like a ride at an amusement park. And when you choose to go on it you think it’s real because that’s how powerful our minds are. And the ride goes up and down and round and round. It has thrills and chills, and it’s very brightly coloured and it’s very loud and it’s fun, for a while. Some people have been on this ride for a long time and they begin to question - is this real or is this just a ride? And other people have remembered and they come back to us. They say, “hey, don’t worry, don’t be afraid, ever, because this is just a ride.” And we… kill those people. Haha “SHUT HIM UP! We have a lot invested in this ride. SHUT HIM UP! Look at my furrows of worry. Look at my big bank account and my family. This just has to be real.” It’s just a ride. But we always kill those good guys who try and tell us that, you ever notice that? And let the demons run amok. But it doesn’t matter because: it’s just a ride. And we can change it any time we want. It’s only a choice. No effort, no work, no job, no savings and money. A choice right now between fear and love.”
And it was like that.
On Sunday, my mother called. I sat through the entire conversation balancing on a fine line that lingered between sobbing, throwing up and silence enforced by a weakening sense of fear and loneliness. What the hell was I thinking? I could barely hear what my mother was saying but I knew that in the silence when she didn’t say anything she wanted to hold me and in the times I shut my eyes, I wanted to run to her. But neither of those things happened. I didn’t say much cos I didn’t want her to hear that I was breaking down and then she went.
She might never know how much I hurt at times like that.
I got off the phone and tried to write but I couldn’t put anything together, it all just fell apart in my head. I smoked the remainder of a joint and sat in front of some mushrooms. I ate five of them and then went downstairs to prepare myself for whatever it was I was expecting.
After an hour and a half, the room got smaller and my headphones nearly pushed my head in.
I lied in bed that night and thought I should pray. It had been a while since my last time and I made the sign of the cross on my hunched shoulders and shut my eyes. I asked Him for help. If anything, that is all I wanted: help. “I don’t know what I’m doing right now and it would be awfully nice if you could help me out. Just point me in the right direction. Lemme know where I stand and that. Nothing’s very clear at the moment.” My trail of thought paused. “I don’t know if I should say this but what if there’s nothing? What if, right now, I am just triggering electric impulses that instantly dissipate in my head and I really am all alone? What if there is no God and I’m just nattering to myself?” I apologised just in case someone was listening and went to sleep.
I woke up and my mushrooms had gone almost completely black and they smelled sour and stale. After my lecture, I dried them while I bought lunch and then figured I may as well eat them all there and then. So I did. I got on with my day. I sat watching TV; my head felt big and my stomach felt heavy. I thought that was the trip and was generally quite annoyed about it all. I swore never to do mushrooms again, citing them as a big waste of time and money.
Then it hit me two hours later. As I stared at the TV, the colours became more enhanced and the walls began to wave. They would fade into an expanse of ivory nothing and then return waving like before. Everything bobbed like I was floating in the sea and I stared at it all and let out the odd giggle. My head fell back into the sofa and I rolled about shutting my eyes and seeing everything on my eyelids. Tears without emotion ran down my cheeks, into the fold of my mouth and then off my chin.
I watched the evening news. I had no choice but to follow the television. Japanese dying in a train crash and politicians lying to each other and everyone else and themselves to the point it all just becomes fact because nobody remembers what the truth is.
Afterwards I cried at some lady that died of cancer. She died with no one helping her but her loved one who could only stand by as her life ebbed away. If the mushrooms had opened my mind, TV was rubbing vinegar into it.
That ended and then Dan got home. Pike left the room and Dan asked me if I had a good weekend, and I told him that I’d eaten a load of mushrooms.
“Don’t tell the others.” I said. They never cottoned on. I was well and truly out of it. The floor was like a waterbed and I wobbled all over it. Dan was meant to go to the pub with them but they left without him. He came to McDonald’s with me. I wasn’t hungry but I had to eat at some point. I’d rather have lay on the sofa and laughed at stuff but I went anyway.
There were horrible people in McDonald’s; men that looked like incarnations of the most evil rats and I was scared of them. I kept forgetting the order. It all tasted of mushrooms. I went back home and the trip finished.
“There must be some kind of way out of here.” Said the joker to the thief.
That night, I looked out of the window and tried to remember everything as it had been when I first moved in. I had spent all day with my mother; she treated me to a Pizza Express and let me have a starter, mains and dessert then she took me here and left me. Seven months later, I still haven’t been completely finished by the wolves.