Nostalgic Ramblings of a Temporary Insomiac

It was one of those nights where you turn off the light and lose sense of almost all cohesive thought as your subconscious tries to overtake your conscious mind in a race to see who can keep you awake the longest.

You know the thing?

This came about at around the 4am mark, when I realised that the only way to shut everyone up was to switch the light back on and attack with a paper and pencil.

This purge has nothing to do with sleep in any form.

That said, I know exactly what it’s about.

If you’re very good, I might even tell you…

Maybe.

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Bright lights and saline… the line feels flat. Flat. FLAT. Whoops, up we go again! Run over and spun…Clarity, what? Stabbed once and again with no penetrating point. Curtains, tilts and comraderie. Give me my rectangle and lake; orange plastic chairs and armour. Flowers are nice. Ducks are nicer. Wanna play pool? The cue has no tip and the table slopes, but it just makes sense that way. Shake and swallow. Swallow. SWALLOW, damn you. The paint dries. The bead falls. The glue sticks. Happiness is a coin monster with a belly of glass, sugar and salt. Poke, poke, POKE. Geez. Anyone home? You, not me. You only pretend to know; it’s your job and I wish you’d shut the fuck up. You can’t do that. WATCH ME. What’s my name? Why am I here? Function how high? For fuck’s sake, don’t do it again!!! It’s only death until someone dies… Is a hamster a guinea pig? No. Just you are. Say no to electrodes; play with power tools instead. Who are all these people? Scan me, why don’t you? Give me a few pricks; I love a good prick. My ball is better than your ball. Mine is squeezable. Mine is edible. Mine is coloured. You want help? I’ll choose the channel. Slops and clatters. Whaddaya want? Stand in line. Plug in the melody of teleportation. Code blue like the telephone called. Excuse me, I would like to tell you that the people in your walkman are lying. Excuse me, why are your surprised there is breakage from five stories? Excuse me, do you really think you have buggage? You must be very angry to rip the head off your teddy bear like that. You people are strange. You people are fucking insane. I just feel sad. They took that man away; then they took that woman. Did you know her? Where did they take her? Why did they take her? I hate this place but I don’t want to leave. You win. Outside, down some tracks, the hoodoo breaks. Look through it. Look at it. Embrace it. Break it. Kill it. Give it a decent burial with flowers and ducks. It’s nothing you need and nowhere you need to be. Put it away. Not again… Maybe; not. Not. NOT. Sometimes, say never. NEVER.

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By the way, my Tumblr rules. This guy told me so.

Probably because I like to post pictures like this:

Pic via The Bunny House

 

 

 

Song Of The Day – Iggy Pop – Sixteen

Immersion

She removes her clothes and stands naked on the edge. The heat of the day has pushed her to it. It’s been a while and she’s unsure whether to prolong the torture, or follow her outstretched hands. She opts for the latter.

Oh!

She remembers the feeling. It snaps back to her in a shock of saturation and sudden charge of algidity.

She resurfaces and opens her eyes, acutely aware of all her senses. The taste of salt is on her lips. Not like the sea, just a subtle familiar flavour. She closes her eyes again and leans back to allow her whole body to rise to the surface. Lying in a Jesus Christ pose, her face drinks in the afternoon sun which is now tempered by a gentle breeze. Bright blue gleams through the cirrus, and the green of the palm trees is nature’s striking contrast.

She hears it. How soon is now? She hears it below the surface. She keeps her head low and listens, bemused that musical notes are still audible. Parts of her body start to move balletically under the water. She feels the sun filling her with an energy she can barely recall and she turns her body prone before kicking out and diving dolphin-like to the depths. She relishes the silence underwater more than any. Legs together and toes pointed, she thinks she could be a mermaid, could she take a liquid breath.

No, this can’t be so. She is far too bouyant.

Faster than she dives, she surfaces. Parts of her naked body want to float and are very insistant about it. She laughs at herself and twirls around, loving the gracefulness that the resistance of the water provides to her movement. She is dancing.

Nobody can see her and she savours the freedom.

She spreads her legs and arms and lies back, upheld by the bed of liquid. She holds the pose, then becomes vertical and forces herself under, before curling and tilting. One, then the other and over again. She stands on solid ground and watches her silhouette. The water creates fluid shadows and she manipulates their mutability, loving the lines and blurrs. She runs her hands over her skin and marvels at how her body feels in the weightlessness, pleasuring in the sensuality.

As the sun dries her body, she smiles.

She hopes it will be hot again tomorrow…

Song Of The Day – Kenny Rogers and The First Edition – Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)