Knife's Edge
So, all these forces playing against each other collide, and I'm tottering on an emotional balancing point. "Knife's edge" might be dramatically useful but really is a simplification. Could fall in a number of directions: emotional stuff as simple as a song or a Dr. Who episode (for crying out loud) makes me quite maudlin; a clear notion of things makes me angry, hot or cold by turns; I broke my toe in the process of doing good things today, ending the day's usefulness pretty much, and if I think about it, the mood becomes fatalistic; my painkiller for all of the above is a trio of high-octane margaritas, and it makes me tired; the usual pleasantries of life keep me laughing, as I seem to have a bouyancy that makes me wonder if I'm related to the Spirit of Christmas Present; oh, and my sex life is that of an occasionally naughty monk, explaining the anger above but also driving me to do something useful, pushing through the pains, to make myself better. Hey, best revenge and all that. Maybe it sounds pathetic, but when I'm drowning in crap, self-improvement really does seem like a reasonable course of action. Is it going to do me any good, in the short or long run? Not a clue. Probably not. But my philosophy is objective enough (funny for a mystic, no?) to use it in either a positive or negative light.
In any case, I seem to be directed minute by minute by a game spinner, and whatever I land on is what I am.
Hey, at least there's the next minute. Could land on Laugh.
In any case, I seem to be directed minute by minute by a game spinner, and whatever I land on is what I am.
Hey, at least there's the next minute. Could land on Laugh.