Not usually a problem really. But I've lost an hour of sleep tonight. More now. As I awoke my mind swam to focus amid numerous shapeless anxieties that were slowly decaying as they were cut into vague shapes and packed back into my subconscious. Miles Davis haunted my thoughts, but as I listened only the air conditioner hummed overhead and the faint sound of voices drifted up from the alley: alien people whom I should be sharing communion with but who are only exciting my raw animal anxieties, fresh, exposed nervous wire anxieties sizzling free and electric on the surface.
Yes, a scared animal that has found itself suspended within cubes of lumber, drywall, and glass...calcified cells of silently vibrating matter hanging there after bubbling up in the long chemistries of relentless history. Simply suspended here, wondering, where is society? Who cares for the ones breaking off and falling down through the cracks? Well, we do of course, but we aren't the ones with the material power. The ones who care for the ones falling are those falling mostly, and the rest? Well.
This economic trauma feels as a deep ceaseless gash opening beneath my feet: a yawning abyss opening underneath. I've had a soft, comfortable floor under me too long, and now a great black maw underneath, which was always there, waiting, makes itself felt, its presence alien and horrifying. But what good is life if it can't travel down its own churning whirlpools, to be transformed when it emerges from the other side?
Strange thoughts from a strange brain, flowered into being amidst a strange, vast cold universe that seems absurd and senseless upon naked viewing, but that upon opening up and activating the right circuits appears warm and beautiful and right. Waiting for it.
