power is power

You know what I say – power is power. Problems are everywhere. I feel it in a soreness. I’ll get a letter, or a phone call, something nice and automated letting me know I’m owing in plain English. Should I put a nice little note for them on the check? No one reads the notes any more. This is for you bastards. I can type fast, write fast, talk fast, walk fast, and also go slow in everything, so slow I almost fall over. And I have friends who fall asleep in mid-sentence but remain awake behind the wheel (knock on wood). Today the snow melts and slides off the roof of the house rattling the gutters and rattling the siding.

There is a HD hum. The pen fills in the last page of current journal. Onto the next then. Let me ask you a question, how stressed are you? I’m sorry for writing cryptic – that is, if that’s what I’m dong. I’m not shooting for that – I want to write and encompass a bigger picture, so I go all over the place because that’s how I like to do it, how I think I should do it. This is how I do it. It just flows into me. I flow with the flow; it’s practically not even me who’s doing the writing. Why should I even take the credit?

If I’m asking for praise I’m asking for too much. No one really deserves a whole lot of praise. Look at what happened to Michael Jackson. An extreme example, I know, but he’s got fans practically bursting into flames for a chance just to hug him, to catch a glimpse of him, to get his signed autograph. Then he’s gotta hide his kids in strange ways, the man becomes so insular he becomes freakish in so many different ways. (Of course in this case this also leads back to his childhood.) I’ve been listening to his album Off The Wall which I think is amazing. Over time you can just watch a person lose it. His face has changed 10 different times. We like to point fingers and laugh and balk, but what hasn’t flipped within us? It’s so hard for me to admit to myself my own disappointments. But it could also go the other way – I could obsess. I could drive myself into the ground over things that no one else can even see, over things that I blow out of proportion or just imagine.

Now it is late. In my world church bells are ringing because it comforts me. A new hour comes quick.

In their 7 AM world the terrifying nuclear test sirens go off, right about the time I’m getting out of the shower.

Back in my world, I am climbing into bed and putting on the headphones, shutting the body down and facing the next phase of the dream life.