*blink*
It'll be august tomorrow, the summer is more than half over already. I'm looking forward to the fall, as usual. This year for my birthday we're planning a trip to Vegas. Hmmm....
I'm not really restless, I just have that usual feeling of being full, in thought, and not knowing, or not ready to begin. I don't know what's worse, the reluctance or the fact that I haven't done anything about it. Swirl and swirl. Just about time for another tattoo, I think. I've been thinking about doing something to off-set my seasons. An iconigraphical "family portrait" of the cast of MotM, I just have to lay it out and get the tattoo guy to do up some sketches. Easy, right? So here's what I'm thinking....
It should have 4 segments, same as the seasons, but each representing the elements. Closest to the elbow will be Brant and earth. Brown and green, the man standing with his face turned away from the flow of the picture. Beside him, water, blue and green and Tali, young, hair pulled into a loose ponytail, one hand stretching toward Brant, the other holding a flaming dagger semi-concealed. She faces fire, red and orange and Trynn. Hmmm. Maybe I should draw it....
Rubber Fruit
Strange place for a basket, I thought. I never really understood the appeal of putting the things way up high, on the fridge say, or the ledge at the top of the cupboards. Still, I was curious.
I pulled the kitchen chair from the table and slid it across the floor to the counter. If my grandma had been here, her shrill screech would have popped an eardrum; "don't drag that chair across the floor!" There's probably some part of me that defiantly moved the chair on the floor the way I did, just to piss her off. Then again, I'd imagine whatever afterlife she finally found, she's not worried about. She never really was unless I was in her line of sight. I stood up on the chair and grabbed the edge of the plastic wicker basket that had got my attention. The colour of the rubber grapes was
indistinguishable from the dust. I never really got the idea of rubber fruit, but I turned them over in the basket and replaced it.
It's Like...
It's the sudden involuntary clench of the jaw and fists, the
unthought reflex to reach forward and knock it down, grab it hard and squeeze, to feel the pulp squish between the fingers. Like hearing a song that makes you tap your toes, with sudden enthusiasm for anger or rage. A wave of sweet tension that moves like a reverse yawn up the spine to the tips of the ears. Feeling the flush of blood as it floods the senses, warming everything. The crazy drumbeat of heart pumping, rhythming a soundtack of mad.
And it comes on sometimes for no reason at all.
I Fight Me So You Don't Have To.
That's been rolling around in my head for a while. I've always been a fighter, and I think lately I've been mulling the idea that I'm so prone to bad habits, cycles and battles in my mind because I was born a fighter. I have usually been one to shy away from physical altercations. I don't throw fists for no reason, or go looking for fights the way most guys do. But I remember times picking fights with friends, and I've always been one to push people into arguments. I say it's to challenge, but I think it's because I like pushing. In most cases I push myself. I fight my self.
As a consequence, I beat myself so bad on the mental battlefield I tend to breakdown, lose myself, lose my sense of direction. I talk myself out of things and do them anyway. I push myself into unnecessary directions that often land me in bad spots, bringing me to the brink of paranoia and breakdown. I push people away to shield them, because it feels right to protect them, and lock myself away because I feel like a monster. I feel guilty. I feel sick and twisted. I don't feel lonely, I feel alone. And I think I always will.
Don't get me wrong, I don't feel unhappy or anything, I feel fine. I'm seeing myself as both the knight and the dragon. As the night and the day. Her and him, and that's why they can't be merged, why Tali always stands up again and spits in his face, why
Trynn always angrily lashes out at her, and why the two can't coexist. They're always there, no matter how hard I try to push them both down. They'll always struggle and resist, always take turns clawing through my
consciousness, always leaving a burning wreck in the wake. But really this isn't about them. There is really a duality, and duplicity. Twins in one body. Imagine siblings sharing a room that's as small as your skull. Is it possible to have two minds at once? Two souls in the same body?
