Enduring, rugged symbiotic loving.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Enduring, rugged symbiotic loving.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
I wonder; if we can map the migrational history of two groups of people through the microbes in their intestinal system, couldn’t we do the same with the demodex?
Maybe our mutual Indian background can be linked through the dna of our demodex folliculorum? Indeed it seems that it can.
How wonderous it is to be part of a symbiotic system that harnesses and harvests; the universe holds me and I hold a universe.
What would you do to give thanks?
I would let a vampire bat suck my blood, he says.
How about a tick, I ask?
Well now, how does a tick, or a bed bug get away with using our insides until we run dry? Haven’t they figured out that the tit for tat is beneficial to them in the long run? Are there not human relationships that work the same way? Do humans have a perverted pleasure in pain? Do we send off collective unconscious signals to the animal kingdom?
Come infiltrate our systems! We don’t mind. We kind of like it. Hit me! Hit me! One more time. Are we directly responsible (She was just asking for it) for the twisted version of a mutualistic relationship? Or is our relationship strictly by accident, coincidence?
There are no deviant by-products in the universe.
Whoever you are, wherever you have been,
There is no need to feel lonesome.
Though an island you may feel, you have more than enough love coming from the microcosms within. Can’t you feel them loving you? Don’t you want to love them right back?
Yes, let’s let our demodex folliculorum mingle, I reply.
It’s only a bonus if you can share with another island.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Vice is a fluxating undulating snake of a good time or at least in the beginning. In the beginning it is always nice.
I would set the alarm an hour early just so I could get some. I never dared do it at work. When I would get back home in the afternoon the first thing I would do was turn on my computer and hit the solitaire icon. I had 660 games but I only played the one. Rouge et Noir; it was the best. I was manic. Fixated. I wanted to win. I believed that it was only a matter of time. I was a good player but this game was difficult; my wins never pushed past the 44%. If he won more than me I would become upset, start thinking that I was a loser, a mediocre human.
It was almost as bad as when I got stuck on the murder mystery books. I wouldn’t leave the house except to meet my therapist. Scrouched on her sofa she would ask me, how are you feeling today. And, biting the skin around my nails I would tell her. Doc, I’m a mess. I can’t take it anymore. I can barely leave the house. I can’t put the books down. At night I say to myself just one more page, one more page and I keep reading and reading and reading until the morning light. Exhausted I trudge through my day, irate at having to deal with people, strangers, the telephone. I just want to stay home and read. The worst is when I finish the book; I become upset, start thinking that I am a loser, a mediocre human.
My dealer, who wasn’t much of a dealer so much as he was a user, lived upstairs. He once told me- whatever gets you through the day. Well. I didn’t want to live like that- to get through the day.
Heroin and solitaire were dispassionate unplanned book-ends. Interspersed were journeys to other exotic lands. In fact, the geographic solution has always been one of my favourite stand by’s. Setting up house really did feel like I was starting new, that I would make things different this time, that I would be stronger, braver, more honest, harder working.
Vice in its chosen form is often a symbolic representation of one’s desire or there lack of. Habit has a seductive ravenous consumption of time. And settling, like vice, takes many forms.
It’s okay. It’s just a game. That’s what I told myself.
Be wary of the mundane as of the terrifying.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
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