A Mad Diversion


It’s a rainbow and our time is almost up.  Short-term and a little bit longer.

I don’t have long to chat, I have made a secret discovery.  I am provoked.  I am curious and delighted and abeyante.  Obviously, I can give no details save from I have received a reminder of a deep, subtle pleasure within myself that has always been there, but has been shoveled below a heap of time and minutiae.  It exists, feverishly, fiendishly, and it lives as deeply as these other shades of panic and order do.  It is a pool where the single bloom of Esoterica blooms on a single night under a single star.  And I have stumbled across it just as it turns towards that heavenly light and begins to blossom.

Vaguery is our stock and trade around these parts.  I cannot say more as of yet, and may never say more, suffice it to say I have put in an application and the offer

Instead, the diurnal, the exhaustively boring, but in its own way, incredibly pleasing.

I stayed to work at the site until eight, the witching hour when the darkness muddies vision and plans.  And I faced the spot where the panic comes and waited the thirty seconds – it couldn’t have been thirty seconds – for the red to become green and endured the impulse to panic and escape.  There is no escape into a busy intersection even at 8:00p.m.  I found myself able to just flutter above the worry enough that it didn’t engage my muscles, no big spasms, no big sweaty, holy shit it’s happening, I am going to die sensations.   I was quite cheered that I made myself face it.  I can’t let this get worse, I told myself, this is my route now and if I can’t go this way, it’s going to be all the more complex and why the hell are we not allowed to drive particular ways – that’s madness.

We need to divert the madness into other areas.

Then, of course, at the secondary intersection, the one that has been fine for a while, we got the whammy.  A small, chihuahua-sized whammy.  An endurable whammy.  A sampler platter of all of the uniquely obnoxious panic behaviors I have.   It just felt like it was going to be red forever and red stopped meaning stop because oh, dear, it was time to go before my head exploded.  It would be awful and terrible not to be able to control one’s impulses.  And as awful as it was to feel as though you’re going to hyperventilate for fear of hyperventilating, it was also something to tick into your memory bean.  You survived and it takes another cut of the scoring machine to break through the muck and overgrowth that has spilt out of the can and exploded, viscera and all across the pathways we aim to take.  It will break eventually provided you and I keep hacking and slashing at it.

We must scurry and hurry.  The day after tomorrow is Thanksgiving and while I don’t feel well, I feel as though I don’t need to worry so much about the worry.


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