No promises, and knock on simulated wood veneer...

But, maybe, I’m back.

It is still rough, ruff, ruffe, but I feel a little less paralyzed in all lobes of my monkey mind.

Sorry for the freakout/bailout but that’s what happens when your blogger has “issues”. One of which is literally overwhelming anxiety from it being an election season. Man, do I have a hard time processing all that shite. It’s as if it has the properties of a big, sticky wad of suffocating, smeary, putrid, plasticene. And then it’s as if it was shot straight into my mainline just clogging up all my functions and trying to beak apart my heart. Why does it always have to be in fall when I am already struggling through a major seasonal affective shift? As well as why are people such little bitches about it all?

Synchronous

“Having the same period and phase”
It’s odd. Repeatedly.
Just when things are bad, quite bad. And I’m angry, so angry. And depressed. An odd series of events frequently occurs. They don’t have to be big, just oddly arising out of the muck (like the spontaneously arising lotus) which, if I’m paying attention, remind me that this is how real magic works. In it’s time. For my ultimate benefit. And without force and manipulation. Not to buy me a cadillac, but to remind me that there is some method to this madness.

fekin' luv

I dreamed last night that I hooked up with the cutest little hipster girl. She was so into me that I found myself feeling unreal and like the impossible had descended into my life. She simply took my breath away. I admit I’m a bit of a rice queen and I suspect she was a version of the cute boy I have a teeny crush on from Horror & Sci-fi Lit class.

I then dreamed the upcoming confrontation I’ll be dealing with over the next few days. I suppose it was a practice run. It went to my advantage. Meaning merely that I remained firm, calm and reasonable. As in I didn’t freak out or cry.

Speaking of crying, my fekin’ heart is broken. Again. I hate nature and I hate love. When you don’t have children or many friends pets take on an exaggerated importance. I don’t think my cat is coming back again. It’s not fair.