finally get out of my slump and play a little keyboard and i'm in trouble for it, and my dumb enflamed emotions signal that it's a punch to the gut, tension headache starting already... feeling very fuck it, want to change consciousness immediately
more than anything, i'm angry - for being chastised, yelled at through the floor, forced to imagine myself as an annoying blundering idiot who i'd make into a big ugly strawman, and there's that extra bonus of knowing i was in the wrong to prompt an assholish overreaction almost anyone would emulate, so i'm not allowed to be angry, plus it's the dubious luxury of normal men, remember?
maybe i could start this new phase of going full-on monk eunuch, accelerate what's already happening anyway - to become a church mouse, worship a language out of earshot, in passing, and mostly just survive on crumbs, and not really worship anything, not grateful
well, my style's gonna get cramped quick... what else can't i do in my own damn apartment? so the paranoia was justified right from the first round of retaliatory pounding, nearly knocked my good old h4n from my computer tower - fucking hell, seven hells too, why not throw them in? what to do now? paralyzed, obsessed, and depressed... turn this already monastic space into the house of total prayerful reflection, subservient to the lord of hypocrites and anal undead?
or cut extrovert activities entirely and write the great solo solipsistic novel? for myself? unless i can't even type either - cause i'm already beaten into a little corner of a shell, paranoid, creeping, suppressed mightily - maybe this is why those others hate it here, what they were trying to impart to me, about the community crap, the crap community... ...... ...... .......... ... . ..... ... .. .!
where can i go to escape conflict? i don't know, nowhere i guess - what drugs can i take to escape conflict? only the ones i can't take - how can i talk about this? i can't, really, or even write, but i'm trying a little bit online, and malik's putting up with it, he actually responded like a good friend would
so let it be written, so let it get stuffed, let it be stuffy, fuck it, fuck all of it, strip the air of every kind of molecule but a synthetic few, thin down the fresh, thicken up emotions for a canned starch
maybe i'll just take what drugs i'm still vouch-safed to take - another round of trazodone, back to the regular dose and then some... man, i'm really angry and a bit lonely, and i'm starting to really crave a brain burning chemical high cause there's a big void tearing through me lately, or it's like my skin's gone - and like other things, like Silver Surfer, and other lackluster hiphop similes