"It was death, was it not? The thing we were talking about? I remember a dreary slightly morbid feel to the conversation, But I guess that could be a lot of other topics as well. Were we really just bouncing around from one Lilypad to the next? Floating in the stream of lateral movements.."
The last little bit of a conversation I had in the forefront of my weary and dozing mind, followed me back to “reality”. I have no context for what this conversation is about. But I do know, that it may or may not be about death, so I kicked off the day with a slightly macabre attitude.
“Rage, rage to the dimming of the light!”
That statement feels back wards to me, I rage and rage and rage every fucking morning when watching the light do quite the opposite. I wish I had energy to Rage against anything anymore, the visceral sensations that accompany turning your entire consciousness over to a primeval force that’s been around since long before we have. To say “fuck it”, and let the animal out, That’s what life feels like, I can even remember what the switching point from “civilized” back into a frothing, teeth gnashing savage, at least on some days..
This was not one of those special somedays, where potential and drive to succeed wake up naked in the same bed, and still like each other. Very rare indeed. So rare in fact, that they retreat into the shadows, and scuttle around like mice in a mortuary.
This day was cloaked in a few emotions, but not a one of them was about potential or Drive. The feelings that accompanied, the grizzly conversation that I brought back with me from a different locale, were, “restlessness” “resentment at physical back pain” and of course my personal favorite, “healthy”. Though Id like to continue and lie to everyone and say that I’m as healthy as a… horse? Ox..?. I cant in good conscience, not qualify that statement. I didn’t feel healthy like yoga a wheat grass and shit. I felt healthy in that The plague of aggressive fever, and night sweats, and chills, that one USUALLY does not have at such a high level of intensity, without first having a relaxing staycation with heroin, and in which case makes sense, because you can see logically “well yeah maybe I shouldn’t have done heroin for weeks everyday…” and it allows you to come to terms with your lifestyle choices, in whatever way you choose. I have experienced this sensation in the first context before. But I had not experienced it in long enough to almost forget it… almost, and then it came back with a vengeance for the preceding 48 hours leading up to this feeling of “healthy”, and wrecked me, leaving me in a puddle of “what the fuck I did to deserve this?” (a lot of shit) and “why do I feel like this sober?”, this puddle was an unmoving ocean at night.
This puddle was deep for a couple days, and when it evaporated, seemingly all at once that morning, I kissed dry land and was glad to have stumbled ashore back on some sort of tangible feeling of health.
So basically a rambling, nonsensical way of saying “Healthy, in comparison to the day before?”
“I think it was about life, the conversation No reason to base then upon. Just got a feeling.”
“Reborn reactionary” “rattle skull” “Writer of strange shit”