dee-compress, or i dunno

"
taste what has made you grow
at once with your oddness, you enlighten
my slow unnurtured brain -
be mine for a day
"

i watched by the innards of fast food signs: just framed, just rows or columns of fluorescent bulbs. ugly bright lines.

, for self-analysis.



someday, i will tape myself into a cardboard box, and FedEx myself to Ulaanbaatar.

but for now...

i was suddenly aware of the washes and washes of self-analysis, for just a little moment, when i was feeling mystical, and listening to "post rock", and staring at faraway birds and clouds and the sun rising, when maybe i should have been watching the road;

and that's when i noticed the rut in my thought process, and so i unleashed my conscious forces against this subconscious foe, screaming "NO!", but still i fell into the rut, and then i screamed "NO!", and back and forth and soon enough i was too crumbled to bite my fingernails in two, and i stared blankly into a corner, a corner on a cinderblock, a cinderblock in a pile of cinderblocks, a pile of cinderblocks on a flatbed truck, a flatbed truck at the traffic light, a traffic light on the way, on the way to being cornered.

you know: like a mental patient, except maneuvering through traffic, instead of strapped to a bed.



how shameful it is to be too bored. too into endings, already. all reddy in the face. wierding emotional quality. stare. trying to keep the mind from thinking of anything at all, and just staring instead. and clasping my hands behind my back, maybe like a formalized nazi might.

all of the washes of self-analysis. the smallish obsessing. the trainwreck details.

jesus, i was so fucking tired today. i carved into my cuticles with my pocketknife, biding my time, and i fidgeted, and thought about just going back to bed and sleeping for fourteen hours. twelve hours.

yes, i was so tired today. i felt like collapsing. i felt like doing lots of heroin, or however that works. i asked myself if i was sure, and i was. weird.



i am always thinking about what i should write about what i am thinking.

what a ridiculous piece of shit i can be.

Yes! i am a man who is out of ideas! but i am not down for the count!

perhaps i should join the peace corps. perhaps i should join the navy. perhaps i should find god. perhaps i should find buddha. perhaps i should concentrate on not speculating. perhaps

i should be making phonecalls. returning phonecalls and making them. i should be in communication with the population, and especially the parts of the population that i like. but i have chosen exile (?).

i am sleep deprivation, or: to always be continued.