as black oil gushes up from the gulf to soil pristine beaches, i think, 'my god, that's like my life.'
yes, i seem to have no control over my moods, optimistic one minute, desperate the next. true, i like to pretend i've self-mastery, the survival instinct, even common sense. alas, the opposite remains a fact. i tumble from dawn til dark. yesterday, worn out from moving to a new (old) house, i could barely crawl, sleeping for hours. nothing interested me. i'd drunk two glasses of beer before going to bed. bad tactic. it drained me of every bit of energy. the depressant canceled the anti's.
do i need to counter-act the stuff making me feel good, just so i feel normal? or do i need an excuse to be a layabout? i forget tired muscles can be appropriate, instead of an indication i'm digging my grave even deeper.
who is really the boss? the only answer i can give is 'nature.' what the hell does that mean! i suppose it's the lazy man's way of escaping the paradox: life is completely illogical. my only temptation and refuge: the imagination, fantasy, they make sense of what is ultimately random.
that said, i should have been dead a bunch of times, especially in my car, falling asleep and drifting across the line, a coming truck five seconds away. or looking one way and turning another, just barely making it in front of a bus rushing from the left. at such times i assume i must have a guardian angel and immediately i thank it. nonsense? better than no sense.
what i love about the oil spill: they're going to dig two more to relieve the pressure on the blown one. what irony! they get two wells for the price of one. and more chances for disaster. nature? we're a crazy as it ever is.
see what i mean with these few pictures of a hypnotist at work: