The Earth Is A Black Hole

I don't know if the miniscule relief I get from taking these huge doses of ibuprofen is worth the numbness of my brain. I may have to seek some medical help to deal with this crap. Not writing and not playing the piano doesn't help. I thought that if i kicked back from doing what I normally do it would give things a chance to heal, but that's not happening. I don't know the medical terms to describe what I'm experiencing. My wrists, shoulders, and hand hurt whether I move them or not. If I were a child I would be weeping constantly. I'm not a child. I know that weeping would only be silly. It wouldn't make me feel any better.

The only real reason I haven't gone to a doctor with my problem is that I know their response will be to act as the agent of the pharmaceutical companies and get rid of me with drug that will numb my brain even more so.

I'm not going to be able to ignore this pain and act like it'll be better in the morning. It MIGHT be better in the morning, but it might not too. I'm not much in the mood to be sitting around hoping a good night sleep will take care of business. I ain't Lil Orphan Annie. Tomorrow ain't here yet.

I feel like the Greek guy who was forced to swallow hemlock and murder himself. He described death approaching from his feet up. This problem is not new with me. It's been around for a while. I've had this pain in my wrists so bad I couldn't turn the handle on a door knob before. I started playing a djembe drum and about that time it went away. I hoped that would work again. It has not. I think I described how the problem in my feet was in about the same area that was covered by a regular pair of socks. It's moved up. Death is now approaching my knees.

Maybe it's something different than what I figured. My friend Rainey has a back problem. It's something similar to a ruptured disc that he's had some success in controlling the pain without surgery. We exchanged e-mails last night, and it seems like he's having a flare-up with his back. He's taking a bunch of Moltrin with about the same success I'm not having with the ibuprofen. I'm hoping for both our sakes, and for the sake of all the people in the world, that whatever is responsible for this pain will find another planet to visit. Vamoose... Bitch!... and let me be. Fat chance... eh?

One of my great curiosities has been about what kind of person I might become if I got addicted to a drug like heroin (Hero wine). It's been a while since I thought about that. My age is showing. Heroin addict is small time compared to crack and crank. We had a family member who got strung out on crack and methodically robbed everybody in the family. I guess my own curiosity would be if I was capable of such dastardly deeds.

I think the answer is no. I'm just too good a beggar for things to ever get that far. I've never had to rob people to get what i wanted from them. I sort of feel cheated that I've never been that driven to take people's stuff out of sheer desperation. Either I could talk myself out of doing it or talk them into just giving it to me outright to stop me from trying to sell them my non-existent, oldest male child. When I get desperate, I got no shame.

The term "shaman" has returned to my writing by the association I made with it through the idea of healing as it pertained to shame. All healing is a healing of shame. I write to be my own physician. Why would I not?

I just wrote a post to the Thomas group in which I found myself writing that the Earth is a black hole and having a body here is proof positive that I'm well past the event horizon that was my final chance for escape. Now, it seems, captain of my fate or no, I'm going down with the ship.