SOMETHING IS SUCKING OUT MY SOUL
My life has become modal. Two choices. I can be as I am and grind myself into dust in a mechanized dismantling, or I can take the pill and mostly make it to appointments on time and clean my apartment when I know guests are coming over. I can fire myself toward a singularity that may or may not be maintainable, or I can mostly make it off the bed to change sides when the needle hits the end of the track.
I’ve found that no comfortable middle exists. There is no cruising altitude. When I’m sober I’m furious in my action. It’s productive. Generally leads to a horrible place, though. Whatever it is I charge into turns into an all-encompassing ideology. Then I take the pill, the blinders fold away, and I’ve found myself in the middle of something I’m ill-equipped to deal with. The realities of life are things most people, I think, are ill-equipped to deal with. They weren’t meant to be studied. We’re meant to be those raging bulls flying at a waving flag. The pill lays me out on the ground. Causes me to stare into the eyes of those in the stands smoking cigarettes in the afternoon, waiting for a sword to flash. Makes me wonder why they’re watching. Makes me wonder why the ground is cold when the air is so warm. Makes me forget about the contest running toward me with a sharp edge aimed at my chest.
