rarefied

it's a bad start on a blank screen to crumple bits of text into bins - float a few tens of Ks of money toward a vague vacation, towards a tank of flotation, find some way to escape the mundane that isn't the done-to-death substance slaveways

the modulation wheel finally died, end of an era, the original keyboard is accelerating toward becoming a carcass - i can't remember how many letter ems are in that word - there's no kinetic decay here though, nor controlled demolition - i'm trying to write about this, this, it, as i feel the disgust of being passively vague - sober depression with no drama, no good reason - hope things go well in korea - there's never been this quick of a shift from winter to spring - i get high on spring for half a day, and then a noveaux green depression oppresses, a snap back to perma-depleted baseline, a feedback loop of warmth and light and sweat and short-shorts and me outside this, incongruent, why can't i enjoy nice things? can't enjoy green things, smoking grass would help me but i'm forbidding myself half-measures, they killed my spirit for: cleanliness and godliness and dignity and i don't even mostly mean that sarcastically, a good life, and being good to good people in my life, etc... yes, getting into the half measures, the codeine and kratom and cannabis and cough syrup and that quickly spiraled out of control, and i don't have any better way to say that, because i'm riding the worn rubber of the wheel, the turgid death of the wheel spinning because inertia

pulling teeth to answer all these step work questions, don't i like being interviewed, doesn't it stroke the ego, even if it's a cock-eyed narcissism? not if it's a book interviewing me, really me writing some shit about myself, that i've pretty much already explored and done nothing about - but i can use the urge to deflect obligation to finally write something here instead of there

it's exhausting and i already lack energy - trying to get through it quickly but feeling deeply bogged down - can't bother coming up with any artful or elegant way to say any of this - hitting a wall - when i'm analyzed whether it's others doing it or myself, there seems to be nothing there, ultimately

hard to get into the spirit of it - can blast facts, be pretty honest, but it doesn't feel good, doesn't feel hopeful, can't even fucking articulate why or how... maybe should just be honest with my sponsor about the process, the paralysis of pointless perfectionism, too many questions, too many angles, don't know what is most important... been thru it already a bunch of times... don't feel much from it... maybe it's just this lame weekend of being tired as usual, but it's worse being tired with time off to be tired, time to do nothing

royally fuck'd