Act I

The platforms of stability that she has temporarily rested upon in the past few months each turned out to be trap doors. The exposed actions of another person too nauseating to document in detail.

She thinks of it all and lets the anger well up and bubble over like hot sticky tar, clinging to her skin and seeping into every pore. The anxiety takes over and feels like maddening little restless bugs crawling beneath her scorched and blistering skin.

Another wrung on the infinite ladder breaks, lowering her one more step down into the bottomless pit. The clarity at the top is now just a tiny pinpoint of light she must strain to perceive.

*She suddenly screams at the top of her lungs*

"I'm pounding my head against a wall. Being stepped on, lied to, fucked over and treated like shit. When will I have my fill?? When is enough, enough? Why do I continue to live in this madness? What the hell is wrong with me?"

*Silence*

No response from the stoic universe.

*Then a small, still voice like a whisper on the wind speaks*

"You'll be given as much as YOU want."

*But, she fails to hear it because the ego is speaking too loudly again*

Breathe, take a pill; it will be all right in a few minutes. Swallow the pain; push it out of your mind. You are just sinking to a new lower level. It will seem normal in a day or two, it always does.

*She unclenches her fists and lets herself fall back into the familiar, comfortable arms of deceit*

The last fleeting thought before going back into the dream,

“How many more steps could possibly be left beneath?”

I missed photo Sunday

A friend of mine has gotten me to digging out
some very old photos of myself.

Here's my punk phase. (Circa 1990)

Notice my astonishingly cluttered bedroom. This my was first "basement bedroom" and as with most kids, the beginning of my "freedom" and self-expression. The basement was perfect for sneaking out of the house at night. Lots of good times were had in that room. I wish I could re-live this time in my life. In the picture above, I am wearing my the my grandfather's suit jacket. He ended up being buried in it a year later. I loved that jacket...

My parents were actually pretty supportive of my self-expression. Somehow I always managed to maintain the "good child" image.
Too bad it wasn't true.
It's kinda crazy, but I remember at this time
in my life thinking that I was so fat.

Tex Avery

I came across this cartoon still today and I instantly felt all warm and fuzzy :) Strange how an image/memory can transport you back just for an instant. This was a cartoon by Tex Avery that I watched many times as a kid.

Does anyone else remember it?

Global Dimming

I followed a link from Nameis's blog this morning to a transcript of a program which aired in the UK on the BBC. This transcript of the show is a bit long, but every word is worth reading.

Very frightening stuff is happening to/on our planet and we need to pay attention for the sake of the generations to come. This article brought to mind images of the Earth's blackened sky in the Matrix movies.

The implications of this phenom on people with seasonal effective disorder (ie: Me) would also be an interesting avenue to explore.