I hang out there, more than anywhere else. It's like another, more Grand, planet. I feel at home, as though the beauty on the outside reflects the beauty on the inside.
Wife is big Hillerman fan. I don't read anymore. No attention span, literally. Literally. I can't even read a magazine article. Pictures. I can read them. and sometimes captions. Film is borderline.
Literally, literally, literally.
That is why cities are bad for me. I can't shut them off. It is a jangle riot; like being ill.
Ever seen a panic attack? Someone saying, hostily, I need to get out of here? Yelling at you, or staring at you, as though you are responsible?
That happened to me once 30 years ago, from a person. Now, I am the one boiling. It's not very fun to be around. I don't think the average person ever sees it, because people like that are normally locked up. They normally, usually, have other illnesses. It's really difficult to understand that DMV or traffic or noise can make a person crazy, because it makes us all crazy, but that's not even close to what we're talking about. And god forbid, don't tell me to calm down.
So when I ask for a drink, Buddy, you better hit my thigh with the hypo. It's not the real me, and that is sad, but whoever it is doesn't give a fuck about the real me. It's a non-question of who is in possession.
Kind of nice, and exciting, uh?
It's dynamic, at least.
:o)
(There we go - more than we asked to know.)
I love the Southwest. It is Home.
I think I had these problems when I was young, but they were under control, as they are inside all of us. They're just the latent potential, the characteristics and stimuli, that can be magnified. |
