Some prose is really poetry, isn’t it? “Where you come from is gone, where you thought you were going to never was there, and where you are is no good unless you can get away from it. Where is there a place for you to be? No place. Nothing outside you can give you any place, he said. You needn’t look at the sky because it’s not going to open up and show no place behind it. You needn’t to…
Huge moon in the sky. 97% full. Day 12 of Quit Smoking Fest. Status: Irritable, angry, feel like the cosmos – and a person here and there – is laughing at me, making this EVEN MORE DIFFICULT than it already is. One little passive-aggressive omission is enough to mess up my whole psyche right now. So FINE. Yes – keeping to it, despite recurring themes of infuriation. In-fury. Harpies, valkyries, screeching ugliness inside. Let go? Be angry? Be sad? Not…
Sunday Morning Yellow Sky by October Project When the darkness falls like a curtain And the night ahead is a long and uncertain dream Beyond the loss and the hope of redemption At the broken heart of the city Where the hollow light of day never reaches in A man can break down and fall into pieces He will fall asleep like a baby And the unforgiving arms of the cradle Rock as hard as the face of the city…
And this is why I won’t be taking Chantix again… The combination of nicotine withdrawal, chantix prescription medication, and the increased attention I’m spending to my own state of consciousness is all creating very strange thought-storms. I know that all of this will pass, and I know not to believe any of it or even to take it that seriously. This is where training in observing your own thoughts and emotions is very helpful. Yes – I’m bracketing for my…
I’m rather down today after formally ending a friendship that went all the way back to childhood. Normally, I would feel it was better to simply fade away, but in this case I felt I had to draw a very clear line. After a couple of attempts to try to maintain the friendship despite our deepening differences, there was a online conversation back and forth about a news story that troubled me. The way the comments were framed, the information…
I remember the primal anguish that is born out of the belief that God is the source of both love and pain. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve observed that the feeling toward the universe it engendered is very similar to that of a hostage, a victim of abuse, a prisoner. Instead of creating a subjectivity of love in freedom, of caritas and kindness, and peace, it seemed to create an obsessive and paradoxical longing and fear that felt so meaningful…