I was standing in the bathroom taking aspirin for a throbbing headache I had from a few glasses of cheap wine and I as I leaned back to drink down some water to wash down the pills I caught sight of a huge fly sticking there on the ceiling.
It was at that moment that it all froze and hung together and there I was, bent back from this antidote to spot the ugliness from this new viewing angle. The scene stood there like some grotesque 3d painting, or a combination of 2d paintings in the memory's eye, and I realized with all those years of the same recurring feeling snapping back together across so many isolated events what a fool I had been, and what a fool I still was, following those lines of thought and sentiment straight through like arrows to be stuck into the bales.
A sentimental fool still chasing that fairy tale stuff that we were made to believe in. And can you blame him? Like a bow was made to fire those arrows, straight and true and with deliberation, we were made to chase these happy endings, ignoring the digressions and warning signs, to land and stick in those unmoving bales.
