Pushing past the droll..

 ..Tobe true

Seems like I write all of my posts at around this exact time... I am going to sleep with pecan pie in my teeth, and also with jeans on. Just opened up a worrisome email, text, etc. in different but highly proximate tabs and then felt a brief experience of stress that seemed inescapable and as if trapped in a loop from tab to tab. Tab, fear, tab, fear, tab, fear, Back the other way, loop. Wanted to give this a droll or ironic-ish title, like, "Pretty depressed", and also planned on making my next post a discussion on the self-feeding narrative of anorexia, can't remember much about what I wanted to type for that now except a vague and basic image of some silvery mist, sheen, scarf-like and floating above the head of a clutching woman

A clutch of a woman, a clutch of woman, interesting alternatives. I am always looking for alternatives. I finished Swann's Way yesterday morning. The whole day after that seems moot, or else I forget it. For the minute I was looking up the recorded date of completion I was convinced that it was this morning, that I finished the book this morning before moving forward to Watchmen and then getting on the Metro-North. So a whole day could have stayed lost in that easy, momentary little cranial blip, before informational access...

Feel a slightly removed bleakness. Like not one that is native to me but which sits in the room in a heavy layer under the atmosphere, should I wish to reach out and kind of touch it a little. Feel like "Swann in Love". Have been and am that lover. Feel a hair of anesthetization, from others and from "myself". Body is uncontrollable. Seems hopeless. Wish to gain total control over it, myself, my thoughts, my urges, usage-impulses, fears, reactions, will power. Worried I convince myself the happy narrative which is just complacency and dissociation and that the real pattern is dark, venomous, and somewhat vicious, and long.