i will ease back into this slowly...my fingers crack like peanut shells crushed beneath the feet of bar goers...my chair creeks rhythmically like a rocking boat as i lean; in to type, out to break...my eyes look forward at a scene that is most definitely a familiar one, but one that i have not seen in some months...its a bit like hopping back on that proverbial bicycle, perhaps a little shakier...to compensate for the shaky re-introduction i donate to all the loyals...the many many throngs of loyals a haiku that i believe to be the only truly inspired and spontaeous haiku i have written, which reads a lot like some sort of kiddy jingle...truly the work of an urbane genius...
flip flip flip the pages
in the wind, its hard to write,
pages flying in the wind
...believe of that what you will...
as well as....
and now an excerpt from the time i thought i was dying...
to help you understand the setting....well, i am going to explain it...a year ago and a few days i was lying in bed...voila!!
"The mind can be an evil bastard of a thing. At this very instant I'm having the hardest of times convincing myself that I am not dying. The thought itself brings me all the closer to Death's door. This is how my mind is telling me my body feels: left hand tingly, then shooting pain in left arm, stemming from what I fear is my heart, airway cutting off. In fact, I cannot even fall asleep to try to get out of this state because every time I get to the point right before I am asleep I get the fear and force myself awake while trying to stay calm as I search for my breath.
The mind is an evil bastard for making me think that my body is losing control. If my body really is in this dying trend that I try to rationally remian skeptical about then I still blame the mind for thinking about it and giving me the fear. Thompson [you know the one] does not believe in paranoia. He says something like, 'paranoia is ignorance.' I'm gonna try to go to sleep now, but if anymore dying episodes come about you can count on me to be right back in this book."
there you have it...one of the several, and possibly one of the most fearful, nights I thought I was gonna die. All I could do was open up my book and start to write to calm myself down. Take a few sips of water to help that air slide down the pipes and write...I swore, on at least a few ocassions, that I was in the process of passing away and after a while, having no other options than to face it and accept it, I just began to roll with the punches and see how far I could let myself slip into this state of fear before I got too deep and wussed out...one day perhaps i will explain it poetically...but then that is my thing...promising bigger and better...haha...and shoving this stuff in your faces...clogging the wires that connect the free world....irony...
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