I’m scared to death of death. Mine, or anyone [anything] else’s. The shrink didn’t have to point that out to me. It wasn’t an epiphany. It is what it is.
I’m a stainless steel ball-bearing careening around a cosmic pinball machine. [Google pinball machine, children.] Careening has always been one of my favorite words. Maybe I should’ve called this blog Careening Down the Laundry Chute.
The Universe body slams the damned machine to get me lodged into a pocket so it can score sometimes. It gets major empathy points on me. Sometimes it succeeds and sometimes it tilts. Most of the time I just get hit by flippers forcing me into one situation or another. Here’s the thing. The ball never wins…even a little. The universe always scores.
I’ve been told that I need a “filter” for my empathy. Feelings come at me full blast and I live them. They become me. I don’t have a good filter. Mine hasn’t been properly cleaned by the Universe. Probably because it tilted too much.
I need a good filter so that I don’t feel stuff. I should forget that I fucked up a million times in this machine. Why torment myself for things I can’t change? The Universe is at the controls. Whooooooahh…we’re tilting again. Filter that thought!!!
Maybe I should call Sears.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
In the Look-Back
P coat and twiggy hair
Riding the Stream Down
Snap shot from the Look-Back
No comments:
Post a Comment