Scenes like this give sadomasochism a bad name
                         -- Momus, "Lucky like St Sebastian."

-- today the sky was blue and cold.  no clouds

-- happiness:
        -- how can so many people find someone to be happy with when whenever I find someone I can be happy with she's either a) taken away from me, b) not interested, or c) leaves?
        -- or, category d:  OTHER!!!!!!

-- guys who just find girlfriends, who say they're going to go get girlfriends and then they just go get girlfriends
        -- they nauseate me
        -- are they shallow? misogynists? don't take it seriously?
        -- but if you don't take it seriously how can you have any sort of meaningful relationship?
        -- or is there just something I don't get?
        -- am I just damaged in some way?
        -- am I the freak, the ruined one?

-- sky, blue, no clouds, cold
        -- funny how we have to see nature as a reflection of our own moods
        -- nature is meaningless and indifferent, and yet somehow this cold hard blue sky seems like it's pressing down on me

-- buildings, too.  oppressive

-- a warm feeling in my chest
        -- not pain but like a flushed, shocked, tingle
        -- like a numb bee sting
        -- heat and tenseness

-- an invisible wall between me and, well, everyone.............................

-- cars, exhaust.  no real sense of time / space

-- walking I distance myself from myself like I'm ceasing to exist / leaving my body
        -- this is a defense mechanism
        -- like the way whores start pretending they're not the ones being raped by their johns, that the violation is happening to someone else, it's not them being fucked over, hurt, treated like meat, it's someone else --they become someone else for a while --distance themselves --leave themselves on automatic --like they've just been pumped with some powerful, deadening narcotic

-- my arms and legs feel like stone --I can barely move --when I walk I stagger
        -- I also need to blink more.  staring dries out my eyes.

-- wake up mornings screaming at the wall
        -- no, not screaming, at least not out loud
        -- mouth contorted, arms and legs and back and chest tense like I'm about to scream --but nothing comes out
        -- just a hissing sound
        -- REPEAT AS NECESSARY

-- pretending to scream is a good way to get out tension
        -- do it whenever, in elevators, on stairwells, in my cars, anywhere private for a few minutes
        -- it tenses me / tires me
        -- REPEAT AS NECESSARY

-- and then I get weak
        -- want to sleep
        -- close my eyes / feel like I'm falling into blackness
        -- my mouth tastes like blood

-- daytime, can't focus my eyes.
        -- just walking around the city, again.
        -- just walking
        -- it's hard to hold up my head / arms and legs like stone
        -- walking is like walking through water

-- snow / ice --then melting.  weather in flux

-- chest hurting
        -- left arm numb, aching
        -- REPEAT AS NECESSARY

-- night: grinding my teeth.  I can tell this because of the way my jaw and neck ache every morning
        -- REPEAT AS NECESSARY

-- urge to scream / punch walls
        -- REPEAT AS NECESSARY

-- xmas soon.  at least Bob and Heather will have a good time together
        -- numb, or rather, telling myself I'm numb, trying to become numb
        -- REPEAT AS NECESSARY

-- I know this is all a metaphor, than none of this is literally real, but it's a terminal metaphor, something so very constant I actually forget it's there, and then it springs up at random times, right when I least expect it, and it reminds me it's there, it'll always be there, and I'll always be lonely --and it's kind of unnamable, and that's why I just call it a wall, an invisible wall that separates me from everyone I try to get close to try to get close to i temporary i temporary i temporary.
        -- people are like the speed of light:
        -- you can never reach them, you can get close, but there's never any contact.
        -- OR:
        -- you do reach them, but at the point of contact there's a crossing, and once you attain their velocity, synch up with them, the universe bends and suddenly you've accelerated to 400 times beyond their speed, hurling you back in time, back before the point where contact was made:
        -- and so you're back at square one, and even if you do reach her she still remains perpetually out of reach

-- i temporary you got married he i did yes i temporary of course you aren't real but still this is like i said a metaphor he yes thats right a metaphor for well everything in your life right i temporary right he and even though its heavyhanded its valid even though its pretentious that doesnt make it any less valid because sometimes the pretentious is valid its the nonpretentious or rather the people without ideas that make us think the pretentious is invalid because theyre jealous of the pretentious because theyre stupid and slow and have no ideas i temporary were getting offtrack right now this is about you and me and what you and heather stand for i cant even synch up with my own fictional creations in a fiction of my own making he so you slather on an oblique literary reference and try to hide in a faulknerian stream of consciousness pastiche you sad sad weird bitter funny but not ha ha funny man

-- REPEAT AS NECESSARY

-- on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and..............
 

Next:  May you rot forever in a hell of your own making....