Sunday, August 23, 2009

It pleases me to not.

A lot of strange goings-on betwixt the little grey cells these days.

Okay. I wrote that previous line in the dead of night. And now, the sun is out and the sky is blue, and I can't for the life of me figure out what my original intention was.

I would like to have an intention stick.

Not an intention STICK, mind you; as if I would bang random people about the head and shoulders with my intention STICK. I mean I wish I could have an intention actually ADHERE itself. For a while.

I wonder what it is about the human psyche that allows for the dancing of demons when the sun is gone. And I also wonder how I came so far down this road, only to be stuck living in the times of the dancing demons, and largely asleep when the nourishing rays of the sun chase the blues away.....

My blues are actually more toward the blackish, these days. It's a feeling that I can't.....quite....shake. Even in the good times, they sit in the darker corners and wait. They even have one of those weird number systems, with a big sign that says, "NOW SERVING NUMBER ___".

It's kind of like the kid in Bloom County, with his closet of anxieties.

Except, mine don't limit themselves to the closet.

And they don't look like the Giant Purple Snorklewacker.

They look like me. That other me.

The me nobody likes.

Including me.

My usual weapons of wit, humor and sarcasm (when all else fails) have deserted me. They sent me a brief postcard from someplace called Siesta Key.

I need a vacation.


Parabola is a great word. And under-used.

I'm going now.

1 comment:

Gertrude said...

Turn to your left... see me? I am right next to you. Black and Blue. Humor gone. Wit abandoned. SOS Clemo. Save our spirits. Save our souls. Save our something.