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Maybe I'm back
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Donkey in Hydra, Greece. cc-by-sa Laura Hilliger
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Tap tap tap. Is this thing on? Testing. Testing.
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The world spun out of my control for a moment and instead of forcing myself to follow the productivity path, I packed it in. I gave up. Stopped. Quit. Let loose the tightened bonds of the psychic dance. I stared at the winds and the waters, frolicked in the stillness of chance. I sat down and watched the late summer roll into autumn and I wrote nary a word.
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Though I did ready myself somehow for the unfortunate events still to come. The proclivity came to re-wild myself, and so I'm here again with my own story.
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The world is ashes and I'm writing the concession speech of my sanity. It doesn't matter who won, indeed I write these words on the eve of a presidential election that is only a passing curiosity, surely, of the man who tied his donkey up at the port.
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Yet I feel as if when another day comes and I push send on this strange missive to you, you'll understand the folly with which we've all traipsed after 2020.
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Maybe I'm a piece
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As an unstable, leftie activist, I have often allowed my naivety and frustration to steer, peering incredulously at my colleagues, neighbors and family members trying to rectify their intellectual incapabilities to see the organism as a whole. This is a common naivety. Eloquence does not negate pseudo-intellectualism, and a fundamentalist standing next to a legend is easy to spot.
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It is clear that the heartbeat of existence is a single bump in the night, and we poor humans are, despite all evidence to the contrary, convinced of our superiority. Well, the crow too does ponder its own mind, and we are merely an aberration in the history of time.
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"So I was talking to the dude from GWAR" is a sentence that throws me back to Richmond, VA, when my bff and roomie was friends with...the dude from GWAR. Over the years I've often had conversations about depression as the thief of identity and indeed the thief of ability. There is, though, no paradox and identity stolen is part of the identity that remains.
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Maybe I need help?
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The help I need is help I must give myself because y'all seem to be tied up.
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By the way, there is whale poop in Chanel Number 5. What do you say to that!?
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