Recently in i had visions i was in them Category

so last night i sat up for hours entertaining some pain. this is the second tooth to go like this, the nerve in a wanna be root canal giving up waiting for the dentist & committing suicide. in my life, this feels liks sparks. this *sounds* like sparks. i have tooth pain i can hear, & clearly. i have a lot of electricity in this body, & believe me, when it's good it's very good, & when it's bad, it's a fucking mini-taser going off in my gums like SNAP it goes just like that SNAP

laying there in the quiet dark not moving a muscle because of this fear that anything, anything, any impulse traveling down any neurons anywhere, might somehow provoke or prolong the enemy action in my face, i searched for ways to deal with it. i could see the red-orange gleam of the gameboy charging unit on the dresser, so i used that as a focal point & tried to breathe through it or whatever it is those annoying nurses tell you to do when you're having a contraction & fuck breathing it's time to scream & kick anyone that tries to put my foot in that fucking stirrup got it? so what do i know about breathing techniques? nothing.

so then i tried to visualize the little gleaming led was the pain, so i closed my eyes & changed it to a soothing blue white color. kinda aqua actually. however this is not the sort of pain that is impressed by that touchy feely new agey stuff, this is rude crude socially unacceptable pain politically incorrect pain that doesn't give a fuck pain that stands scowling its best badass scowl & growls, so do ya feel lucky punk?

and then i thought, what the fuck?

why does this electricity have such power over me? i fucking own the shit! i manufactured it out of raw materials in my spare fucking time! these are my sparks, this is my pain. and so i stopped reacting to it with the same response that i imagine some distant ancestor of mine would have, when he would have been almost inventing fire but having a few technical difficulties & "ow! ow! fire hurt og! fire bad!" & so mankind went without heat & cooked food for another buncha years before someone finally figured out fire safety & ... where was i? right, i was saying yeah, we're wired for stupid, we homo sapiens. we have this elaborate security system in place to warn us about shit that's bad for us, even if we already know. yes, i am aware how important it is to get to the dentist, & i will when i can, but right now i cannot. & no there is no cheap easy answer sitting right around here overlooked, i really can't go just yet. so this pain is of no use to me. you could say it keeps the urgency first & forefront, but you'd be wrong, because it won't -- i suppose it could, but it just doesn't -- this neuron seppuku that teeth do, it's wild painful for a good three days or a week, then it subsides & everything's bearable.

& so i focused my thoughts, my mind my body my whole attention on this pain. i followed it around & watched it work. i observed it, i tracked it, i measured it. i did not try to separate my self from the pain, good or bad right or wrong it is part of me, it belongs to me, it is mine, & mine alone. & gathered all my stubborn bitch™ brand logic (i've had this since adolescence, you can ask my parents, it's relentless) & decided that i was not going to let a bunch of electro-chemical reflexes be the boss of me. logically, this sensation i have in my mouth my cheekbones my eye sockets etc is no different from any other sensation i have, well, no different than say, the sound of the crooked cricket i call my conscience is from a humvee car alarm that goes off all night long at 175 decibels outside your bedroom window while its owner sleeps off the twenty year old scotch. you know? they're both sounds, one's just a wee bit more annoying.

so i still laid around much if not all of today wrapping my belief system around this, & practicing meeting the pain when it comes without that whining & cringing, trying to be matter of fact about it, calm & unfearful, unruffled like an accountant telling that stoner from purchasing that i simply will not approve any more orders for office supplies that have a first ingredient of sugar. & i did it without disassociating myself from my pain, people disassociate out of fear, i am not afraid. the pain is here, it is inside me, an integral part of my existence. "life is pain, highness. anyone who tells you something different is selling something"

pain is interesting when you're not sitting around frantically trying to make it go away. i'll never like it like it, that's not my thang, but i don't have to react to it like dear old great×75324 uncle og did when he was failing to manage to make fire work for him.

i still haven't quite got the hang of pain + sleep. it's like having a lonely tweaker friend show up & decide to spend the night, in 100000 words or more if they can manage. which is fine, it's not like i fear sleep deprivation, i'm pretty damn good company, even when i'm having problems with this fucked up wiring system of mine.

i was hiding in a six by eight foot hole in a mud hut doing the hokey pokey with three quarters of a million in hundred dollar bills stuffed in my sequined thong panties when i realized i was actually sitting in a buggy room drunk on strawberry wine salivating over sushi as i remembered it listening to the tickle of chilled rain outside the barred window overlooking the bushy alley & also live birds of pray like a tongue in my ear hard a gentle seduction perfect a secret between me & before strawberry there was some news (drowned out now of course) & before that there was peach. of course. millions of peaches, peaches for free. blend this reckless into this life (mine) lived incongruous garnished with grilled onions like a philly cheesesteak (great with hairy dog hangovers) i hesitate clicking post worried you might miss the pictures (note: before this there are pictures please look thank you) there. when you hit my age you have birthweekends not days baby you party like i ain't dead yet motherhugger. not by a longshot or a flask fulla tequila not empty yet no. may god bless the separation of church & state (hallelujah) glory be to rock the fuck on &/or me on high & that's what it's all about. even if you drink from the chalice of cheap escape & fade away. especially if.

spinning. we are all of us living in spin you know perched on this place rotating @ 17,000 mph / revolving @ 1,000 mph & we measure the times of our lives in revolutions & we express stability in terms relative to the surface of an object hurtling through the vast cold void along this crazyfast corkcsrew path & life is not linear ever.

& now what pleasant paralysis colors these afternoons a blur ablaze in lassitude bathed in lightspeed wasted? & then when it ends blended across the edge, that last almost but not quite infinite retrospectacular technicolor flash when the eyes go final wide with perspective for once & once only perfect, what then? what now will be seen as having been regrettable then? what if it is more or less the opposite of the purposeful pull of this guilt what if every dutiful rational act that felt right like sacrifice is what should have been done different when all's said & over? what if none of this matters because i am only approximately the seventeen billionth soul to wonder something suspiciously like this only minus most of this fancy bullshit? what if my numbers are way the fuck off & only a handful of us punkass flakes ever bother with this wondering? what if there is no way to know now what will have been wasted then, what if these afternoons spent blissful indolent spinning words across keys with hands that dance vivid with wistful grace were spent precisely how they were meant to be, making these vague misgivings misguided at least & at worst an obscene waste of some thing i cannot tell you what it is however i do know i don't know what it is & also i must admit it is not even afternoon anymore in fact it is now months & miles from where i spilled the first words of this & still.

still.

what if there was a thing like a novel but not, that somewhere in something like a chapter that might be number twenty eight (with two of the intervening numbers taken up by the thing of things like poems because they feed off the same database & use a very similar codebase) had something like this in it:

progress. the music still seizes me clenches me into a ball of wire through which the unpleasant current of the present passes.

aside from that i am beginning to see beyond this, a glimmer of a future like a barren landscape stretching to the end of the continent and fading into waves of green and grey, lit with the hectic light of a gathering storm; in other words, a future i can picture myself living in, an acceptable outcome of all of this, not the future i would have preferred but not one i will ... reject.

& what if it started out like ...

that i have completely lost my mind. oh shut up, i did too, it was right ... here. it was. i swear.

ok fine then.

i was up all night studying the interplay of various alpha states & slow waves & gamma rays & the movement of dreams through open eyes, diligently recording my observations utilizing this revolutionary new method of visual note-taking i've developed, which has neuroscientists everywhere reaching nervously for the phone to call security and have me removed immediately. no not really. but it could happen. anything can.

ever sit up all night with your computer right next to another computer and the other computer is on the internet and the person sitting at it is playing oh i don't know like bingo or something and this goes on hour after hour after hour and then on and and and ... sitting inches from the internet with nothing but a few stray utterly disorderly brainwaves, three graphics programs and a couple of unremarkable photographs and ... next thing i know this thing happened, i'm not quite sure how, ...

... and after that, things started getting reallyreallyfuckingweird and by that i mean, you might not even wanna look. no really.

and i asked dude next door who has the internet if i might borrow it a bit and he said no. can you imagine. pfft. doesn't he know who i am?

my daughter's not at work today no free internet there. i've already bugged mechele. weirdo noid of a neighbor. what in the name of colonel lionel p. tweezerfuck is going on here? exactly?

so i'm blogging in a notebook with a bad pen. by tomorrow i'll be blogging from the daughterhouse on some free AOL while we wait for real internet oh yeah i will be online you betcha by golly walk like a bumfuck egyptian i will be oh hell i said oh hell oh wait i mean oh fuck yeah.

i have most emphatically lost it. if you find it do not panic ok panic but don't make any sudden moves as you run for your lives it will be fine i am fine everything is just so fucking fine i could just

... oh you wish you knew what i could just do about it being so fucking fine don't you? oh wait. no you don't. i had you confused with someone else. my mistake. none of this is happening. we don't exist we eat our time something something something cayenne ok look you are gonna haveta trust me on this one k? alrighty then. assume a name any name will do flee damn you flee the state country planet whatever hurry get gone like gone was on baby now (what you're still here? fuuuuck.) go! before it's too ...

oh you wish. you wish you wished. i see how it is.
*ahem*
as you were

*nods*

point of fact :: no capital letters were typed in the making of this entry. they are all span style text transform thingys.

oh the hell with reality. i mean it. hell with it. i'm gonna get really drunk while i'm packing. and take lots of breaks to do drunk blogging. probably.

what are a lizard's favorite things? wingnuts on roses and flippers on kittens, sure, but her very very favorite things are guys in dresses. without further ado, here's a ... guy in a dress (what you were expecting flippered kittens?)

... and other things that didn't happen today:

today, a starbucks was not firebombed, its employees not cooked slowly and excruciatingly into blackened lumps of carbon by the gasoline-fueled flames in spite of the lies, the lies, the filthy lies, they could have broken that fifty, you know it, i know it, they knew it. also, we have it from the disgruntled staff members of some very reliable sources that there were no consequences of any kind visited upon the deceitful evil bitch behind the counter with the shriveled twisted excuse for a soul, even though the universe is just a little further from balance as a result.

in other non-news, a sanctimonious ex was not found justifiably chopped into bite sized morsels, nor was his flesh shredded from bone by a small but determined group of angry wolverines. he did not trip and fall under the wheels of anything big enough to matter, nor did he lose any appendages in an unfortunate axe accident. after none of this happened, there was no rejoicing, no parade, nada, zip, zero, the big diddly squat: no liquored-up nekkid folk were caught on tape as they swarmed into the streets in celebration, there was no lootin' the pharmacies, not a dang thing (sorry, the network won't let me say goldang). on the bright side there were no arrests.

this has been brought to you by stolichnaya peach and a tremendous effort of will.