everything has gone wrong
my brain is a limpet mine
I'm going to bed
going to bed
wherever that is
Monday, June 30, 2008
Folding Chair
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Textual accompaniment to the ringing in my ears. Shared for no one but spoken into the world before it dries up and dances madly in the wind.
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- ScaughtFive
- Seattle, Washington, United States
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8 comments:
I had a bout of folding chair syndrome Saturday. First time I've succumbed to such retched weariness since 1988, oh my!
So bad it was that by nightfall I had to call the pops! A grown woman, sobbing on the phone, imploring the comfort of her pops and not her momma??? That's pretty powerful shite there Eugene.
It did the trick, as I thought it might. My pops, like a good man, brought me back. Can't say a call to my mum would have yielded the same result. Nope, for certain a call to my mum would have pushed me completely under and over.
Pops are good sometimes. We should show them more love I think.
That's good you can connect with a parent. I don't know if I could do that. The only person I can rely on is me and I'm unreliable. Heck, I don't even like me! Therefore, the Brian Wilson prescription is the best medicine for an amateur human being such as myself.
You are but part amateur, deary, no matter what you like to pretend/believe to the contary.
You don't fool me. no.
It's f'n hot out there today! Sun burnin' my shoulders, smolderin' hot.
Found a treasure I did, diggin' through the pea gravel, though. That was a nice surprise. In fact, it was a very special, delightful, meaninful message from the universe! And here I'd done thunk the universe was finished with me.
Funny it is... Fickle it is, that universe of ours. Definitely not persnickety like me, no.
P.S.: Even Brian Wilson's prescription was temporary. And some argue, quite heatedly, that it wasn't his own prescription he was taking.
Everything contains its opposite, don't it?
"Everything contains its opposite, don't it?"
And becomes it...
back to the burn
The only people that made Brian Wilson get out of bed were his family and managers. Incidentally, they're the people that drove him there in the first place. The guy clearly is mentally ill and has tried his best to communicate that he doesn't want to deal with people. Why people don't respect his wishes and let him do whatever he wants to do is really the heart of the matter, innit?
He seemed pretty damn happy with his wife, piano, and music a few years ago. And truly it didn't seem artificial or forced in the least.
Shit I thought he was living somewhere like Bloomfield Hills, MI or something wacky like that.
But he did look solidly happy.
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