Brink

September 21st, 2009

red welts of semi-consciousness fleck my skin like gecko blinks, and i am bleakly wondering if i tripped or if i was dragged by the scruff of my contentment out of the shadow puppet cave, up the rabbit hole, past the second star to the right, and thrown here — here, corporeal, amidst these shiny puddles of flesh that grotesquely cogitate. i dont remember the struggle. i must not have put up a fight. if i think about it hard enough i will perhaps realize that everything was my fault. but do you know what it is to be like this? i have amassed a supply of spools out of which i unravel neatly collated information, conversation, cab fare, ladder knowhow, duvets and a tightly wound google calendar. i store them away like fish, mechanically, and then i stare out of the window as sharply clear 20/20 greens and greys pedal furiously by. suddenly i’m out. i’ve stepped out. and i will discover that i have learned absolutely nothing new about anything at all. i have been on page 93 since june, that june, from the courageous airplane into which i burst! — a spaghetti-like vector — but seemingly never disembarked. even montage 93, so crinkled and anchored down with all my heartbreak, the wrong names, such horror, can move and shift. i, however, have moved nowhere … and i’m so disappointed with myself because i let all these things happen. this new puberty, instead of propulsion and glitter, has all the sensation of being a fish out of water. a wallflower in the middle. a dragged out stutter in a sentence. i am vacant; there is now a big yawning bleeding gash in my soul and in that part of my brain where giggles once bubbled up from. did i outgrow my old world? maybe i’ll find it again here. the first step is to go out and buy a notebook and some pencils. then, expulsion.

and hopefully i will find myself back on the minute hand of the big ben.

Entry Filed under: Musings