What the fuck am I even doing here?
I’m still convinced I’m living in the darker timeline.
The past day or so, I’ve been chatting with a woman, who I shall refer to as J. She lives in Buffalo. We’ve never met but both feel like we’ve known each other for years. I swear one of the other realities is playing catch up. I even explained to her my theory and she wasn’t put off by it.
I’m feeling quiet today.
Two hours. Two hours. After the fucking hell I went through tonight — panic attack, vomiting, questioning my sanity — I get two lousy hours of sleep before being jolted awake.
Fuck you, anxiety. I didn’t need this tonight.
I’ve been resisting writing this for the past hour or so. Because I realize, deep down, how insane I’m going to sound.
Earlier tonight, my friend Erin said that sometimes, to shake the words loose, she goes for a walk.
For me, it was a TTC streetcar ride.
Idea.
Must sleep on it.
Well I said
“Lily, Oh Lily I don’t feel safe
I feel that life has blown a great big hole
Through me”
And she said
“Child, you must protect yourself
I’ll show you how with fire”Gabriel before me
Raphael behind me
Michael to my right
Uriel on my left side
In the circle of fireI said
“Lily, Oh Lily I’m so afraid
I fear I am walking in the Veil of Darkness”
And she said
“Child, take what I say
With a pinch of salt
And protect yourself with fire”Gabriel before me
Raphael behind me
Michael to my right
Uriel on my left side
In the circle of fire
Woke up with the brown out at 6:30 am. Sometimes the power goes out for a minute or so early in the mornings in the neighbourhood, but it never lasts. I live on an older street, and don’t expect things to change soon.
Decided to do laundry at 8:30 am. It’s nice that there’s no one else there. It’s stupid but I have a favourite washer and dryer (though I wish they’d fix the damned dryers already; 3-4 of ’em have been offline for months).
The countdown is still on. My mood is slightly elevated from last night, but the day is young.
I have a coffee date in the afternoon, and a kink event I’m working the door for in the evening. Hopefully the mood stays up, but I make no promises.
You know what I hate about Saturday mornings? No cartoons. When I was a kid I couldn’t wait to get up and watch Scooby Doo and other stuff. Granted, my morning default these days is the news but a part of me would like to recapture the fun of Saturday morning cartoons, and not worry about what that blithering idiot Drumpf has tweeted about while sitting on his golden crapper.
I miss the lack of responsibility. Or rather, the ease at which I was able to handle being responsible. Some mornings it seems the weight of my world pushes me so deep into the sofa I can’t move, and so I fall asleep like a narcoleptic possum, only to wake myself up with my snoring.
That’s all I’ve got.
and some days, the bear gets you.
Today has been some of column a, and some of column b.
So, wow. After some googling, I figured out how to replace the atomizer in my ELeaf Pico vape. This was the high point of my day.
As for my low point. That’s still ongoing. I’ll know more in 24-36 hours.
I feel like I’m on the edge of an idea; that there’s something struggling to break free. To be written. Only I have no clue what it is.
Maybe it’s the humidity.
The urge to create is strong, but the clay is unformed and I don’t know where to begin carving. It’s been a ridiculously long time since I’ve started a new project and my skin itches with the possibilities.
But I don’t know where to start.
Usually, it starts with a single voice, talking to me in my head. A line of dialogue that forms an entire project. Most people begin by fleshing out a plot; I form the story around the characters. It’s worked before, I have no doubt it will happen again.
Just, talk to me already dammit. Stop whispering.
I’m ready to listen.
Yesterday’s entry took more out of me than I really expected. And I’m on pins and needles because I made it public.
When I’m having a bad day, I tend to internally ask myself how I’m doing, with the answer being: “shut up, if I was fine, I wouldn’t need to check in.” Which is true. The days I don’t even realize I haven’t asked the question of myself I’m obviously having a good day.
This is a very bad one. I’ve asked the question over a half dozen times already.
It’s 10 years ago.
It’s 5 years ago.
It’s today.
I seriously doubt I’ll sleep much tonight.
The Bloody Doors Off 