the title that was not to be - a tryst with the k christ - the only purpose is in revealing chemical context in yellow snowballs, piss drunk - de k poetry, that's my genre - if you like crinkles, you're my audience, if you can stand the grime - i am my own parasite, kobain said it better, did it better - well, he's not exactly a role model...
strange times - ketamine is futuristic, reveals to me present vistas, and foams on the lips of what might be in this strange little niche of creek street with the people that i meet here in this nook - i'm sure it's just a string on a fretboard of grand delusion, but it resonates in creepy minor seconds, with some voices that do harmony, jamais-vous and deja simultaneous - and i feel responsible to play the part, the role, the idiotic quixotic lunatic, even while in downtime, even when proclaiming myself to be a loser, like contra does, if he can be a loser than i'll gladly wrap myself up in that tatterred bundle, there won't be much oil to burn in the future to warm us in the winter, but maybe the greenhouse effect will trap enough carbon to make that not matter - i'll be a loser, the path of least resistance, but i won't be eaten by a grizzly bear, and werner herzog will not make a documentary about me - but lord knows, i am not healthy - this can't be good for my head - cortisol has been under control, and i've had multivitamins under my belt, but that gravy train's over - now it's sertraline and k, cross purposes? i guess i'm the first human guinea pig for that combo
this is one of those times, one of those bouncey commodious times, when names for bands can be snatched from the rubber walls of every subatomic particle precept - anything, NOISEGATE? yes, you can have it, i just tossed it off
but when the ego reforms, will he want to be noisegate? probably not - there's something in the way - something in the way - mmm mmm, to quote cobain again, why not? in these times of having been abandoned, the stopgap saving me from the horror of a monastic future, but everything is qualified, in retrospect she was as right for me as anything i could conceive and it's infinitely horrible to realize that as right as that was it was so fucked up and wrong and she's moved on, obviously
and i'm trying, ketamine keeps things flowing, and sertraline keeps seretonin going, and i wouldn't have written that last letter to her if it weren't for a window opened by k, even if i was over the trip as i wrote the actual words, but i can't claim it was a pure self writing, even though i didn't regret what i said until it became clear it was completely unrequited
hopefully sertraline and ketamine will get along with each other, i see no problems so far, and that kind of scares me, because i'm a master at seeing problems and sinister harbingers of existential apocalypse, so something's wrong, where is it? well it's in the fall of every breath, as i said, even as i've assimilated my parents aging, and my parents parents aging aging past the point of decency, but we're civilized, and i say that verbatim to retain the taint of sarcasm you would assume i intend, but actually, i really mean that, it is civilized to be decent and let the elderly live as good as they can, we hope, whatever that could be, you can't generalize, it's on a case by case basis, i think alice still enjoys her smokes, hey years from now, she may pine for that ability, oh, to be eighty again, and now we're into the struldbrug dregs
well it's four AM, the night is young - maybe i could do a 2nd k wave, how about it Rome, do you feel like falling again? Am I sparticus?
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