We found ourselves on the top of a grassy hill in the middle of the night, the moon high and bright and shining on the long blades of grass, lighting it up a metallic silver that stressed the contours to the bottom. She had become fat and bloated and looked at me with a tortured face that said more than she could have produced with language. I dropped her and she tumbled down the hill and I ran after her, mortified that it could happen. As she rose to her feet, sobbing, she glared at me in revulsion and I apologized with cries of mercy. Remarkably, she forgave me right away. Emotional dreams linger in the memory. They say a lot.
There's an adjustment period for some people in adopting anti-depressants. The mind seems to strive to maintain an equilibrium, and when that equilibrium is disturbed, there comes panic, much like that sharp stab that comes before almost losing your balance. I'm in the middle of that stab. I'm hoping I don't lose my balance, and that the stab goes away. Now I remember why I never gave the Paxil a chance.
I play the guitar to push it out of my head. For the moment at least. A lot of guitars have a feminine shape. Like a woman's body. I wonder if this is what attracts them. As when dudes are attracted to a woman with a banana or a popsicle. I take care of my guitar as if it had consciousness. It was realized by a series of great minds, so I suppose I am in a relationship with those minds as they speak across times long past. I agree with them when I play. I say yes to their arguments when I jar the strings, when I manipulate waves, and create churning electronic oceans that ebb and flow in and out of my ears.
I say yes to other men's arguments when I listen to the music they produce. And my yes is said with more force when I adopt their techniques and styles. It is so with all things. All things are a progression of yes' and nos towards life, survival, success. Abundance. Whatever it is. A logical progression of ons and offs branching out like vines and leaves towards the sun.
Men who agree in key fundamentals bond together and form bands and these bands attract fans that also agree in a magnitude that varies according to circumstances. This is where an argument becomes a force that spreads out, creating mountains and valleys. New realizations of fundamentals, when used effectively, translate to greater force. A force grows weaker as it disperses over time and space. Take an overabundance of imitators and hacks and you get a probable sign of energy decay. Energy decay results in a blunting of the argument as it disperses and becomes confused and vague, and the scavengers carry it off to feed themselves.
This is the problem I have with modern popular culture. I could be wrong about this. But I can't afford to doubt. Because I would lose my self. My self is built partially by antagonism against current culture. It is hard to validate a truth in the scientific sense. That is, empirically, concretely. But there is conviction.
Ah, anyway. At least the dreams are vivid.
