THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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This morning I woke up! |
i found the sump pump and massaged the muck from it with my hands, which are still tinted an odd yellow brown, and poured cold water into the lowest point and replaced the sump pump and flipped the breaker. the motherfucker still works though it did not work when it was submerged in wet mud which is why i paid $500 for the man to come and rip out the carpets and scatter a jawa junkyard of dehumidifiers and industrial fans about my lowest reaches. the noise was a thousand vacuum cleaners and brought the city to the mountain retreat. i have nothing but laughter because anything else would destroy my mind. this flood comes with the destruction of my fence. with the massive cracked indentation of my concrete walk by the balancing claws of the crane that lowered the 1500 gallon concrete septic tank into my driveway. conincidence, i think, though i am still not sure where the water came from. the water. there is water everywhere up there. it was supposed to be over tomorrow. it won't be, maybe it will be this week. i want it over so badly. these things you learn; so much i've learned. i wonder if i've learned enough or if the hammer will swing again. i don't want to close my eyes. i am thankful that i stopped with the drugs. they were a source of anxiety, paranoia. not worth it, friend. there isn't even an upside, anymore. i lost my guitar tuner. i don't have a fork. everything is tuned relative to some unknown. it isn't an E. it is low, flat flat flat into blood red velvet and woodsmoke. i sing i growl i moan and howl with phantom wolves. i don't ever remember the words but i remember there are times when i chuckle and times when the tears won't stop. it's been nine years since i realized there was more to life than blank cold logic, unemotional rational freeze. i used to be so simple, so blank. the marble that you could lean against and depend upon and sometimes, when you closed your eyes, you could forget that the warmth you derived from me was merely an unaffected reflection of the warmth you pressed into me. nine years ago and now the pendulum has swung too far and maybe has begun to swing back and there is some point where you grow numb and distant and cold and alone no matter who has wrapped her arms around you and you want to cry because you know it will pass but you can't believe that it will pass and nothing she says will snap you out of it. you just want it to be over and to be normal and to stand by the fire and see the fire and understand the fire and still feel its warmth. feel its warmth and never again fear that someday you will recognize everything around you and at the same time feel you are in a foreign land with lungs that refuse to blow sound over a tongue that will no longer move. |
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they bailed, by the way. the buyers. back on the market with that thing. i'm going to look for a job now. |
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