A Bathroom - 03.22.06
You have got to be kidding me. My skin is turning into chitinous garbage and this guy's telling me if I do soul-searching I'm going to get somewhere? Fuck that noise. Goddamned Free are starting to sound like a flock of drunk flamingos if you ask me. I swear to Christ... fucking meditation? What the hell is that shit going to solve?
Okay, let me just start from the beginning. Palin ex arches...
So I saw this shit out in the Bluegrass State while I was driving along. Nothing big I was doing, just driving. I come across this one spot though... this one fuckin' spot and there's like maybe thirty ghosts out there chowing down on a lay line like fat kids on twinkies. Now, okay, that's a little weird, but it gets better.
There's a guy with them, looks pretty normal, nothing out of the ordinary until I get a good look at his back. His little superman cape's got it a symbol blazin' so bright could light up Vegas. Says "pain". He sees me, or maybe just looks my way and takes off, walk in the park, into the woods. Fucked up, but I am not about to follow that shit. Not for a million bucks.
I drive on, make a mental note. Few hours later I make my report to the Free and send out the SOS for volunteers to come help. Fabulous is the only one besides my girl Sunny to respond. Everyone else just argues over the meaning of it, but no one has the balls to step out and scout it with me. I grab my girls and Randy and we meet it at my place. Fabulous brings brownies, God bless his little fucked soul.
We head out to the site. Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm waiting for someone to ask me what I was tripping, but they don't. That's how I really know I picked the right people to come. I'm not fuckin' crazy - loopy, melancholy, even borderline suicidal at times, but I'm not crazy.
We hike it around a bit, throwing sights and other shit like candy at a parade. I'm starting to think maybe the Dox is goin' ta come slap us any minute for tempting the domino and that's when the crazy shit starts happening. Randy falls down a hole that smells to high heaven and Psyche starts gettin' poked at. People are gettin' touched in all the wrong ways and I feel like I stepped on a slug. Seriously, a goddamned punk-ass slug.
So I'm looking at my shoe, like maybe it's goin' ta start talking to me, and then my scar starts itching. The one right over my kidney. I scratch at it, but it feels fucked up. My shirt rides up and then the looks that might as well be gasps of horror start. People are throwing some of the most fucked up adjectives out there and I'm just trying to see what the fuck happened to my back.
Then Fabulous goes poking into Twilight. Comes back out with one arm snaking up with circuits, only I didn't know that at the time. I was a little thrown off by the fact it was fuckin' creeping up his arm and across his chest. He's screaming about Death aliens and three of us are trying to counter whatever the fuck is trying to eat him. Psyche's the one who stops it. I see that. Fuckin' A, that's my woman!
We don't stick around long after that. Randy gets me drunk later, figuring it'll take my mind off of worrying about everything but I find I can't stop staring at my back in the mirror. I can see he wants to touch it. Make sure it's real. I guess there are still things that can turn anyone into a five year old where everything can be solved or affirmed by poking it with a stick. But most of all he's just there to keep me from wanting to rip at it with my hands or otherwise.
I don't like it. It makes me uncomfortable. And what's more, Randy's seeing visions about it. Ughh, I hate this. I hate it.
So I tell the Free about it. Fabulous is already railing about his skin. We're all just trying to figure it out and that fuckin' anarchist Levia wants to look at my skin as a doctor. I fucking hate doctors. I hate hospitals too. Won't go near the things unless I have to. Well, my reluctance starts a petty argument. Fuck it. I don't care. And now this guy, Aesculapius, wants to look at me and take me through some guided meditation horseshit. Says it'll help me see if the stuff on my skin affects more than my skin. Says I'm going to likely find a hospital in my soul...
New Age happy horseshit. That's what I call it. I want to laugh at how ridiculous his advice seems. I really do. But what I need right now is a Master of Life, and I only know one for sure. I'm going to DC anyway, I may as well ask him. He's offered to fix my skin before, but this time it's different. I want Psyche there too. I think this is going to work both sides of the gate.
Somewhere I think Legba is laughing at me... the fucker.
Okay, let me just start from the beginning. Palin ex arches...
So I saw this shit out in the Bluegrass State while I was driving along. Nothing big I was doing, just driving. I come across this one spot though... this one fuckin' spot and there's like maybe thirty ghosts out there chowing down on a lay line like fat kids on twinkies. Now, okay, that's a little weird, but it gets better.
There's a guy with them, looks pretty normal, nothing out of the ordinary until I get a good look at his back. His little superman cape's got it a symbol blazin' so bright could light up Vegas. Says "pain". He sees me, or maybe just looks my way and takes off, walk in the park, into the woods. Fucked up, but I am not about to follow that shit. Not for a million bucks.
I drive on, make a mental note. Few hours later I make my report to the Free and send out the SOS for volunteers to come help. Fabulous is the only one besides my girl Sunny to respond. Everyone else just argues over the meaning of it, but no one has the balls to step out and scout it with me. I grab my girls and Randy and we meet it at my place. Fabulous brings brownies, God bless his little fucked soul.
We head out to the site. Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm waiting for someone to ask me what I was tripping, but they don't. That's how I really know I picked the right people to come. I'm not fuckin' crazy - loopy, melancholy, even borderline suicidal at times, but I'm not crazy.
We hike it around a bit, throwing sights and other shit like candy at a parade. I'm starting to think maybe the Dox is goin' ta come slap us any minute for tempting the domino and that's when the crazy shit starts happening. Randy falls down a hole that smells to high heaven and Psyche starts gettin' poked at. People are gettin' touched in all the wrong ways and I feel like I stepped on a slug. Seriously, a goddamned punk-ass slug.
So I'm looking at my shoe, like maybe it's goin' ta start talking to me, and then my scar starts itching. The one right over my kidney. I scratch at it, but it feels fucked up. My shirt rides up and then the looks that might as well be gasps of horror start. People are throwing some of the most fucked up adjectives out there and I'm just trying to see what the fuck happened to my back.
Then Fabulous goes poking into Twilight. Comes back out with one arm snaking up with circuits, only I didn't know that at the time. I was a little thrown off by the fact it was fuckin' creeping up his arm and across his chest. He's screaming about Death aliens and three of us are trying to counter whatever the fuck is trying to eat him. Psyche's the one who stops it. I see that. Fuckin' A, that's my woman!
We don't stick around long after that. Randy gets me drunk later, figuring it'll take my mind off of worrying about everything but I find I can't stop staring at my back in the mirror. I can see he wants to touch it. Make sure it's real. I guess there are still things that can turn anyone into a five year old where everything can be solved or affirmed by poking it with a stick. But most of all he's just there to keep me from wanting to rip at it with my hands or otherwise.
I don't like it. It makes me uncomfortable. And what's more, Randy's seeing visions about it. Ughh, I hate this. I hate it.
So I tell the Free about it. Fabulous is already railing about his skin. We're all just trying to figure it out and that fuckin' anarchist Levia wants to look at my skin as a doctor. I fucking hate doctors. I hate hospitals too. Won't go near the things unless I have to. Well, my reluctance starts a petty argument. Fuck it. I don't care. And now this guy, Aesculapius, wants to look at me and take me through some guided meditation horseshit. Says it'll help me see if the stuff on my skin affects more than my skin. Says I'm going to likely find a hospital in my soul...
New Age happy horseshit. That's what I call it. I want to laugh at how ridiculous his advice seems. I really do. But what I need right now is a Master of Life, and I only know one for sure. I'm going to DC anyway, I may as well ask him. He's offered to fix my skin before, but this time it's different. I want Psyche there too. I think this is going to work both sides of the gate.
Somewhere I think Legba is laughing at me... the fucker.