healthy and anti-oxidents. I awoke thinking this is what I need. For reasons that I won't go into (delicacy - always delicate), I have had a purge of bacterium in my womb. This was something I did in a cavelier - what the fuck - sort of way.
Last night - as the process was occurring - I awoke enveloped in sweat. I moved to the middle of the standard king bed (not california) to sleep in a dry spot. This morning I awoke on the far side of the bed of where I started. The sheets and covers were soaked two thirds area. Bah. This is not a fright. The thing I wanted to explain is different.
Shall I digress? The things I want to tell you and the reasons for telling you confound me. Why? why do I feel the compulsion to relate my life on a ones and zeros medium (with the added assurance that at least two people that I know and love - maybe more - will read this very thing that doesn't even exist yet - as I've not written it)? Even this is a bore. I've written before of my bewonderment bemusment and bedevilment. I've even alluded to the rules of three.
Back to one.
Most importantly,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, more importantly, I awoke feeling weak and new. Even my skin feels like a baby. I ran a bath, but I have rather decided to drain the tepid water. For some reason, this is OK. What am I saying? Words are always inadequate. I did want to express that. Writers write; however, there is always the ellusive spark/song/ray that is not fully transcribable. Fresh and weak. That's how I felt.
Importantly, I had a dream about mark and I. I had a dream that we were in that quasi new york of which I've before dreamt, but that we were dead. We lived there (paradox yes), but never concurrently. When I was there (minding the baby dex and staying in the carolina-type apartment of rich and rachel and being lost and depressed), mark was not. There was a point at the end of the dream when mark was there. I lost the thread before I even awoke (repression?), but it was something sinister that he said -something final - possibly along the lines of 'she is dead. remove her from this realm'. I do remember that after mark said it, rich suggested that I return to their apartment.
Strange. He was right. It is indeed the primary chain isn't it? (as often is the case, you vehemently deny something a mirror says to you in real time - then you mull and process and find some truth to your great chagrin).
Dead. It's a death. I'm living in the dead son's room. I'm living in the dead husband's room.
That can't be though. There must be something. but it would merely be a salvage. panic. I cried just a half hour ago whilst procuring my tea in the kitchen. I cried because knowing it is lost is horrific. Knowing the death is horrific. and I thought all the tears were shed. surprise.
oh god it's very hard.
new planets abound. This one will survive without the ...
in other words:
la reine est mort. vive la reine.
Whoever would have thought that life would be this way? Honestly. I will tell you (and you can not believe me) that in my youth, I had it hard in my mind. I felt things and was miserable and wondering and questing and thwarted. Things hurt me - with no scars on the skin. I've known terrible pain. However, I think the only thing different about pain as you grow older is - well two things:
1. you realize you do it to yourself and that's what really - confounds 2. you have more clarity of the patterns and the perspective of having been conscious a lot longer 3. you play. you win. you play. you lost. you play. 4. no one ever really will do a vulcan mind meld, but many similcrums will be attempted and loved 5. i know nothing stays the same, but if you're willing to play the game, it will be coming around again 6. sloth is a deadly sin 7. the sun is great. the star is great. however, the comets and planets and dark matter (if it exists) and moons and atoms and energy all contribute. Don't just gaze at the sun. Learn from me.