i don’t know where my head’s at right now, but this is crazy. can’t figure out don’t know but euphoria punctuated by high-hats and 808s. hugging this flow like i can’t let go like it’s my lifeline like i need to be here so bad i just don’t understand don’t know don’t care. and i want it to stop.

strange fruit.

who said loneliness wasn’t beneficial? cabin fever on fast-fo or something else i don’t care. right now, this moment, this is all there is. your embrace is all i ever needed. all i ever wanted. i just found something i thought i had lost.

and i’m ecstatic/desolate. which comes from knowing this is always there. i’m the only one. i can pull jedi mind tricks. wind blows through clears one puff lungpower lowers my mind. literally. and i do this in your (my) name. my sweat can dissolve a silk suit. somebody make these orangutans go away.

i can make time.

that’s how i feel right now.

headnodz and crossed legs
listening to the notic with my neck.
like janet, control disappears.

- will you be able to bring it to a conclusion? she asked wisely.

- maybe. i don’t know. i hope so. i would at least know one way or the other whether to put energy into it or not, i replied uncertainly. but we’ll talk about it when i see you.

[aside - i now have several notebook pages titled "Conversations I Need to Have"].

it just might be on. scary.

there are ingredients, elements. trying to figure out if they’re omens too. need to just figure out whether or not this is a path. i’ve been looking at it for a while, at the same time walking on a different road. at the very least, i should be able to know where to step next. get rid of this service road feeling that’s been hanging around for two years.

bobby taylor, the answer is yes. let me ask you that same question.

++

current obsession: cyborgs (again).

virtuereality will eventually subsume me.

re-kindled by a talk on embodiment. i exist more online than i do in the physical world, evidenced by the surprise on friends’ faces when i’m seen in public. oh well. the amount of thinking, processing, and working out i’ve been doing, i should probably be removed any way. my mindscape’s getting compartmentalized.

i don’t know how to talk to people any more. social awkwardness, magnified.

++

new language to theorise my mental. themes of the past little while: historicisation, spatialisation, temporality. removed from advanced theory, re-applied to emotions. temporality’s been throwing me off. when i have time (a mantra, repeat several thousand times over), i will study time. what is this pressing sense of urgency?

there’s a paralysis i’ve been unable to talk about. i’m hoping that writing this out, posting it in public, just putting it out there, will do something to break this deadlock. i try and talk about it with people around me, but they don’t hear me though. i seem to portray this image of ceaseless hustle, always being on the grind, but right now, it’s not true at all.

i’m frozen, suspended. up ended.

there’s reprieve, blips of fantastical times on another plane, indoors between four walls, cocooned in love and protection, surrounded by amulets and emotions. you are my holiday. and although i physically leave a space, mentally i’m tenacious in remaining.

the return to the real isn’t happening which is problematic. i haven’t been this scared in years. i don’t know what the source of the fear is, possibility maybe. failure too.

i’ve tried every little trick i know, from exercise to setting myself up. throwing myself into lifestyle changes to produce an illusion of change and movement results in selective agoraphobia. the only survival behaviour that remains is avoidance.

i alternate between choosing to shelter myself and choosing to provoke, poking at my playdead body with a sharpened stick. it hurts, so i curl up tighter.

today, i live between parentheses. i need to move into the body of text, embody text, bodied in text. and i don’t know how to do that.

it’s been hard, challenging. and the more i seem to want to leave escape flee, the more helpless i feel. forget the magic, i’m at the point of needing cathartic.

and all underlined by this huge feeling of shift control delete. i need to know where to how to turn.

i confess…

and then, you
take my heart and place
it in your chest.

anti[em]bodied.

apr10