I've let the whole day go by without writing much. I may have composed a couple of e-mails that didn't amount to nothing. I haven't gone anywhere. Not even to the cafe or the grocery store. I had some food here that I fixed for myself without too much trouble. My youngest brother dropped by with an almost full bottle of wine he and his wife thought might have been opened too long. He wanted to know if I wanted it if it wasn't vinegary. I tasted a touch of it to check it out, and there was a tartness to it, but i said I'd give it a try. I've cut way back on my wine drinking since I've been on this medicine.
I've not drank anything but wine for a long time now. Cheap red burgundy for the most part. You know, the kind you can buy at the grocery store. I'm not much of a connoisseur. I always thought I would be if I ever came into some sort of financial wind fall, but now that I have to take medicine to even be able to write this entry I guess that idea is pretty much shot too, whether I win the lottery or not. I can't just eat or drink anything I wanna. I have to eat and drink what will stay down.
It's not as bad as I may be painting it. I mean, it would be for sure if I wasn't taking this methotrexate or something like it. You've heard of some medicine that it will either cure you or kill you, well, this stuff ain't known for curing RA, and neither is any other store-bought drug. It's either take this medicine with any or all of the side effects of taking it or suffering a continuum of excruciating, bone-rattling pain. Sometimes it's that way whether I take the drug or not.
I've really spent a good amount of time recently thinking about the idea that the pearl I describe frequently arrived here imbued with three basic attributes that will survive whatever bodies it creates or occupies when they're long gone, and this world and the one above it are vaporware too.
I've contemplated the notion of this pearl having volition and curiosity for as long as I've been aware of it, but the idea that it also contains it's own memory system has really started to make sense. Sense in the way I'm presently attempting to explain.
The pearl having it's own module or cache of me-mores from the gitgo is what fascinates me for the last couple of days. Moreso, that pertinent memories of this weird lifetime will be stored there too. I've associated this with the packet or pouch the main careactor of the Hero Journey stories carries with it when it conjures for an answer to it's oracular approach to manifesting long-term me-more-ree-s.
I'm reaching for a descriptor that will indicate a method of manipulating the content of the long-term memores that has accumulated over billions of life times in various forms, and might be the very angels said to be dancing on the head of a pin. I could have better models to reach for to approximate small. I didn't spend much time in laboratories or science class labs where they kept microscopes that let it's operator see really small things.
I looked minimally through a microscope at one-celled animals like amoebas. I identified the creatures I was supposed to in order to get a passing grade, but the experience was kind of ho-hum to me. Doing that never inspire me to an avocation or hobby through instruments to make things either small or large. I like seeing macro photos of bugs and plants. I seem particularly attracted to seeing the patterns in snowflakes at high magnification, but I can't see myself jumping through no hoops to do it myself.
There are subjects or topics that interest me that I actually have jumped through hoops for. Extreme hoops. Life-threatening hoops. Hoops I came close to abandoning my very life for, and a few times, other people's lives than mine to boot.
There is a autistic-like detachment I seem able to enter in order to survive in situations where the only, but very real danger is becoming distracted and losing my focus and concentration. Sometime it's like I get inside this state of being-for-myself and the more the powers that be try to root me outta there by distracting my focus, the more determined I become to create an impenetrable barrier of nothingness that literally subsumes the ground-of-being that allows for their ex-is-tense.
That's what happened to yesterday. I wrote a string of opinions inspired by various e-mails I would have normally answered and forgotten, but instead of mailing them I published them on this blog, and edited them over and over for about 12-14 hours.
I'm surprised I didn't delete them and move on. It happens. I was editing those posts like I might be mindlessly playing a slot machine in a casino. I wouldn't be playing and expecting to win. That wasn't the point. I figure the reason I ain't done squat today is to rest up from creating nothingness yesterday.
Whatta ya' do when there's nothing to do, and the world is sitting heavy on you, and the pressure comes down with the force of despair, and the will that you won't kind of stuns. Where do you go when there is nowhere to go, and the place that you're at is kinda blue, and you been everywhere but the stars up above, and you feel like you've been up there too? What do you see when there is nothing to see, and the things that you do see are not true, and you look deep inside for the child who has died, and the place it occupied is gone too?
Oh, Lord of mah haid take mah senses away, and take me away from this world of desire. Because, the feelings I've got from frustration and fear take me away from loving myself.
I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
