glucosamine & MSM … as long as it doesn’t hurt my stomach, like every other vitamin i take, i will be diligent. even if it has a placebo affect. see, i think if you believe hard enough, it will become real, because the brain is so complex, powerful, untapped, and mysterious. i will believe these magic vitamins will cure my rotator cuff. after a while, pain begins to wear one’s emotional state down – at least this one. me, right here. i feel like i’m walking around with a downtrodden look on my face, grappling at stones that continuously fall off of the cliff i am dangling from. that’s my arm, right there. i don’t want to lose that delusional belief that my brain can fix my shoulder on its own, so i will only allow a certain amount of time to wallow today. i figured it was too cold outside for my joints, so i used the elliptical today – i looked down and 61 minutes had passed. boy, was i surprised. you see, my mind needs this – demands me to exhaust myself. otherwise, i think about things i cannot control; you don’t want to know about those things, trust me. or maybe you do, but i won’t tell you; not because i’m afraid you’ll like me less, but because you may like me more – and not in the way you think. more like, bumping into an ostrich in the city, or watching a 10 year old girl in a communion dress go mud bugging; or just me, this girl right here, off-roading or doing donuts in some parking lot. it’s not like a train wreck or anything, nothing severe, nothing that will make you feel bad. anyway, i can control what i do with my own body. i could have gone another full hour on that machine, but thought that might actually be considered insane. i stepped off, swapped out laundry, vacuumed, fed/dressed my kids, showered, and put on all black. then i put on xymox. i don’t deserve to rest, but writing is sort of flavor of resting, so maybe i do. the thing is, i’m not sleeping at night, so my mind is a junkshop, as matt johnson (the the) once said. it’s crystal clear, a trip down to florida is necessary, to visit the folks, and to heat my bones. there is a hot tub. i dwell in that hot tub. and silently thank the sky breezing through the palm fronds for bringing me a taste of complete sublime. i’m like a bear catching a trout swimming upstream in those moments – just living on instinct. satisfaction guaranteed. somewhat alienated, taking off in the convertible alone, to do dangerous photo shoots. who cares about anything else. seriously.
maybe i’ll write a poem again someday. there is always that risk, you know. boom, one day, the flame may die out. be it by the wind of my own blow, or by some outsourced breeze. i couldn’t or wouldn’t say. i couldn’t or wouldn’t know. it’s almost like it has nothing to do with me. i do it because i have to. i do it, like that 15 year old version of me, listening to industrial music in her candle-lit room did; because i can’t not. do you know what i mean?
i do it because it’s the closest way to touching, feeling, seeing, and believing in what i want to come true, or vaguely, vacuously visiting what did come true.