Three holes to fill: I’m lonely, horny and ornery. Or, in clinical terms, I’m depressed, (hypo)manic and anxious. In the end, I’m screwed.
To earn a living you have to quit dreaming. To fall in love you have to get over yourself. Working and dating: two chores I have no energy for.
Jean Baudrillard: “Language, too, has its molars for grinding, its incisors for cutting, its canines for tearing—and, from time to time, a wisdom tooth.”
Enlightenment: enduring the pain of a wisdom truth.
After all the therapy and all the refills, I should be myself again. How unbearable—to be yourself as God or your doctors intended! If the doctors say there’s nothing wrong with you, ask God for a second opinion.
As a kid I wondered what would be here if the world were not here—if God, in the Beginning, had nothing to live for.
Traumatized in high school, I wrote numb poetry, without irony, already finding ways to reverse my birth through verse.
I was a missing person in my own backyard. An absent student with perfect attendance. No one, except God perhaps, noticed I wasn’t (all) there.
I am not a recovering melancholic. I continue to overthink.
Four months ago, I announced that I had a third book in the works. Today this book has a title: Double Meaning. I hope to publish it via CreateSpace by November 2018. Details to follow. Meanwhile, check out the new design of the blog.