Another Layer of Words & Images Polluting Your Spotless Screen

FRIENDS,

How are you? I hope you are well. I can honestly say I feel better than I have in a year & a half. For this I am unspeakably grateful…not just forced-gratitude-list-grateful, but really, really, really fucking off the charts thankful.

If this life were a gratitude contest, I would be winning.

And I say that with more humility than you can read into a simple blog post.

[it's okay, you can laugh here]

I know I said that when we were settled in the new house I would be talking about some more serious issues here in The Octopus Documentary. And I'm working toward that. There is a lot of serious shit to address in the world. But I'm not ready to be serious yet. 

So please enjoy this backlog of Streamed Consciousness until I'm ready:

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And so I leave behind another haunted house. Who knew I had another family of ghosts tucked between heart and lungs. Fat, ugly emotions lodged like unchoice meats in that critical cavity. Intangible residents, still getting mail from Victoria's Secret and huckster dental associates. No resistance from elastic ribcage. Breathing became a worn out pair of underpants. All egos are dead. Yours too. Columbus is coming to get us again, only his ships will fly in from above: The Nina, the Pinta and the Droning Maria. 10-12-15

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Like settlers we crossed the highway in our covered wagon/SUV hybrid. Left behind the genteel plains of Southern Pine, the numerology of eleven-eleven. Just as we left the wild, wild ghetto three years prior. The only soldiers we left behind were figurines. We foraged for mattresses and food. Our cats fought over the empty space by our sides, then shrunk to their haunches in the screened wilderness. We met other settlers who claimed our happiness would be arriving shortly. We explored on foot, found some old bones and a fresh corpse hanging. The turquoise walls closed around me like a storm of calm cement. 10-20-15

Lower Life-forms play Jeopardy!

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I used to deal in words/I used to heal in images/Now there is layer of words & images polluting the skies of the minds and oceans of eyes/Now I need to find a bigger band-aid, a quieter rave/Now i sing my swollen heart back down to size/Now I stay home every night trying to solve discordant equations with my tiny dried up peanut brain/Now I will consult the Emotional Thesaurus whenever the dictionary won't do/Now I will fail as a human because my senses got the memo 10-24-15 

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Feeling numb in sensational places. I know each zip code boasts a bottle of top-shelf loneliness shaped just like me. Our own special brand--shared just out of reach. On the label--a sand spur, a bloodstain, a centipede. A silver border keeps it all in check like an electric fence. Throat of glass, tightened not by fire but fear. Belly vaulted against emotional extremes--joy is the enemy. Who could fall from that plane once more? Only a robot who doesn't care, whose belly doesn't tighten right before the climax. Only an auto-pilot's empty cockpit. 10-26-15 

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Warm on the porch…where are you November? I watch the windfall like wind made of anvils…the humidity a punching bag I can't hit hard enough…the sun a loud outgoing neighbor coughing in my face then asking me to help move potted plants across the yard. Useless work…concentration camp monotony…stone piles trading spaces then going home again to broth and rat turds…where is my October…the month I masturbated my mind back to happiness…how can I be happy when the weather won't cooperate? 11-2-15

It's a Potty!

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So…."Molly" is just the new name for Xtasy? I thought Molly was a whole new drug tweaked by the underground chemists for a new generation of tweakers. But it's pretty much the same chemical compound as Xtasy--the rave drug of my humble X-generation. If you know me at all, you know I dream of the invention of a new drug that solves all the problems of Humanitor. It would have to be a psychoactive happiness-maker as well as a pain-remover. It would have all the good properties of Xtasy, alcohol, marijuana and cocaine without being addictive or hangover-inducing. And let's just say it would cure cancer too! Oh, what a world we would live in if someone--anyone!--could concoct, finance, market, package & distribute such a product! When there is a presidential candidate whose main mission is to do this--why, then I will be so so INTERESTED in politics. Until then I will dream of an Ayahuasca adventure in Peru & continue to regard politics with satirical ennui. GOOD DAY. 11-5-15

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Whew, that was a long stream! I promise to keep up in the future so I don't burden you like that again.

Enjoy everything you can…

Love-Vin