Showing posts with label mental vacancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mental vacancy. Show all posts

Sunday, August 11, 2019

sacred mysteries


how could it happen how does one drift from one person into another morph from one personality to another barely recognizable brand-new habits different features not physical no wait yes some physical shaped by stress care diversion distraction obsession compulsion call it addiction go ahead how does this occur overnight or incrementally invisibly moment by moment immeasurably imperceptibly unhinged from all consequence untethered from responsibility and remorse reckless to the point of indulgent death-defying what causes this brings it to the fore was it always there under layers of sedimentary deposition dolorous dolomite dangerous cementation percolating for years decades of decadent brew how does this volcano finally erupt when does it hurl lava rocks steam scalding all within eyeshot and after all is said and done said and done ad nauseam when is enough enough when does the person go back to so-called normal will there ever be a normal again was there ever a normal even a paranormal the road to recovery new neural pathways stroke victims new neural patterns relearning speech gait thought glance narrative halting steps a limp holding an unseen cane can one do it learn the healing find the healed self aromatherapy healing touch balm salutary salve soothing song how does one begin where does one start how does one take the first shaky step a sacred mystery  
 

Saturday, August 11, 2007

Vacantsy



Pawlie Kokonuts, speaking in the condescending and off-putting third person, is off for several days to the Adirondacks.

Vac time, baby.

No Internet, no phone, no faxes, no emails (probably no sex either: too many moose [mooses? mice?] and loons, is my excuse). And I most certainly left no number for work. Well, there is no number. No phone, remember? And my cellphone has little or no coverage up there. Splendid.

If you need to reach me, just go to PrivateNudistRetreatForPotBelliedMemoirists.com.

(Fellow naturalists: Don't you just hate it the way sand and ants find their way into all those cracks?)

You all behave now, ya hear?

Words, and Then Some

Too many fled Spillways mouths Oceans swill May flies Swamped Too many words Enough   Said it all Spoke too much Tongue tied Talons claws sy...