Nothing's wrong

I’ve spent the past 3 weeks stone cold sober, and the last 2 weeks in complete control of myself, dealing with mortgage brokers, insurance brokers, printers, deliveries, premeditated ejaculations, hair care, ironing etc. Adult things. Everything is running smoothly. I feel great. It’s so nice. Everything’s nice. Nice, nice, nice. How pleasant to see things running smoothly. How nice. How tediously nice. How comfortable and predictable everything has become. How stable I feel. How clean. Like I’ve been disinfected. Like I’ve been wiped down with bleach. Sterilized. Sterile. Squeaky clean. Like a soldier’s button. Like a happy, shiny soldier’s button. Happy, clean and nice.

Tomorrow I will do something stupid. Tomorrow I will make a mistake on purpose. Tomorrow I will feel my pulse again.

Give me liberation, or give me death

Not long after college I lived in a house with my friend Rich. We had the basement and a group of inconsequential, Long Island ‘party girls’ lived upstairs from us. One day I had an idea in my head. I’d been thinking about how much energy I had, and how overwhelming it was becoming … I just couldn’t use it all up.
When I came home from work there were no cars in the driveway, which meant there was nobody home. I decided to make an audio piece. I took a cardboard box and a broken pane of glass I had, pressed ‘record’ on the cassette deck and smashed the glass in the box with a hammer; making violent, tinkling noises; then I screamed “I have an incredible … amount of … energy”.
I then heard something like muffled distress coming from upstairs. Seems someone was home after all, and my little project, sadly, was over. I just couldn’t continue knowing someone outside myself was somehow involved.

I took all day to muscle up the balls to start drawing today. To step away from all the dull humans that somehow own a part of me took all day. It took till I was too impatient, too bored, too urgent.

What a drag. I must start being more free.