The twitchy, desperate, neural firings of a squashed insect
-I still haven't shook the feeling of being on bonus time, like I'm in some afterlife, or behind some veil, excluded from the main event. My memories hark back to a time of clarity and drive, whereas my present is a Vaseline-sheen muddle, a mundane mid-waking with tingling limbs - vague, gentle chest pains. I blame the digital life. I blame the prescribed drugs of my adolescence. I blame the gasping, bloated mind, soaked in fever brine, porous and nibbled by scavenger fish. I breathe joy in spacey intervals, a perpetual orchestral warm-up, waiting for a cooperative clarity, a baton to follow. I feel lost and in love and secluded and burnt. Living with the superstition of a sailor, clinging to any meaning in a vast, unforgiving sea.
-Oh to be stoned and sloshed, addled to the brink on cunning poisons - delicate tinctures crafted by dark engineers in warehouse spaces, skirting authority and their own feral tendencies. Modern alchemy turning the leaden to golden escape.
- I may take up napping. I think I could do it really well if I put in the effort. It's just a matter of finding the time in my schedule to parse it out. Maybe invent a whole new sleep schedule for a while. Get in a whole different time and space from everyone. Worth experimenting with to found a circadian Goldilocks.
Today's Drawing (inspired by the word "Xeros" which I poached from MW's word of the day, "Xeroscape." It's Greek for dry and I love the look and feel of it.)
Today's "365" Project (Make something that balances.)
"Knobhead"
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-I still haven't shook the feeling of being on bonus time, like I'm in some afterlife, or behind some veil, excluded from the main event. My memories hark back to a time of clarity and drive, whereas my present is a Vaseline-sheen muddle, a mundane mid-waking with tingling limbs - vague, gentle chest pains. I blame the digital life. I blame the prescribed drugs of my adolescence. I blame the gasping, bloated mind, soaked in fever brine, porous and nibbled by scavenger fish. I breathe joy in spacey intervals, a perpetual orchestral warm-up, waiting for a cooperative clarity, a baton to follow. I feel lost and in love and secluded and burnt. Living with the superstition of a sailor, clinging to any meaning in a vast, unforgiving sea.
-Oh to be stoned and sloshed, addled to the brink on cunning poisons - delicate tinctures crafted by dark engineers in warehouse spaces, skirting authority and their own feral tendencies. Modern alchemy turning the leaden to golden escape.
- I may take up napping. I think I could do it really well if I put in the effort. It's just a matter of finding the time in my schedule to parse it out. Maybe invent a whole new sleep schedule for a while. Get in a whole different time and space from everyone. Worth experimenting with to found a circadian Goldilocks.
Haiku of the Day:
I wish I could sleep
in a state of true comfort-
drifting off the coil
in a state of true comfort-
drifting off the coil
Today's Drawing (inspired by the word "Xeros" which I poached from MW's word of the day, "Xeroscape." It's Greek for dry and I love the look and feel of it.)
Today's "365" Project (Make something that balances.)
"Knobhead"
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