The Head Sickness

Saturday — I confront a wall of bass and for a second there think I might lose my contents. It is very important to contain. Thursday — I say I don’t have healthcare so this writing is my therapy and the therapist herself remains to be seen. Only Terra shows a little leg, now the office sets the scene for a classic doctor/patient love story. But I am no longer sick. A little time passes and finally the whole dance floor is ablaze with body and camera flash.

Dream — I am at work in a house solving a problem. A rude little jackass of a kid comes in. Reminds me of many I encounter here in this Houston. I realize he is insulting me in my own house. Next thing I know I’m throwing him down a flight of stairs and out the front door. I say to his friend, if you’re with him you gotta go too. He looks back to his game and continues playing.

Now, what was this problem I was attending? Not a spill. No, but if you do it this way… It’s better because you have more consistency and uniformity of design. Half the time I’m scheming templates for the longevity of future generations of projects along the lines of software available to me. Friday — someone has turned the heat up and the little animals are crouched low and panting. I envision a future where no air conditioner will be able to save us and so-called united nations will still be in “talks” and nothing is getting done. I thought we were supposed to have flying cars by now.

Weekends, I clean the dwellings and keep alone. I compare and contrast past events and alternate possibilities and endings and count my blessings and watch the little sprouts of anger. Some meditations are fraught with drowsiness. But I plod on.

It is on the dance floor where I realize: I avoid death awhile. Aren’t you? In the meantime, what shall we do or not do and isn’t pride just the stupidest fucking thing? I guess I’m here casting out more questions than I get answers to.

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