Take a Chance

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I have been underground for some months. Trolls - or perhaps Dwarves, or Republicans - tricked me into their darkened, sun-deprived lair with the promise of release from pain. It was, of course, a shameless lie, but I was desperate, and gullible enough to pursue it. As a reward, I drowned five months of my life in some sticky fluid - lost forever, or so it seems.

Actually, not "lost": I gained much knowledge, almost all of it unwelcome. However, a beam of light penetrated the density of my increasingly sluggish perceptual apparatus, and, as a result, I crawled out of my self-inflicted hole. Of course, I prefer to call it "their" hole, and to blame "them" for my being in it, but that would not only be disingenuous - it would also put the lie to whatever insight I have gleaned by virtue of said bolt of lightning which snapped my fog. So: my hole, my fault. Mea culpa and all that.

So here's the story, faithful reader. Or unfaithful - or faithless - what do I know? What do you know? What do any of us know? Which, in fact, is the point I was trying to get to...

Whilst (homage to the long history of the language which I so freely mangle) deep in the lair of darkness, the following chain of events transpired:
  • I accepted the "obvious truth" than my pain was unnecessary, useless, and preventable (must I cut to the chase and presage the plot pivot? the necessary, the needed, the irrevocable?)...
  • Shortly thereafter, I noticed that my perceptual apparatus had spawned a comforting, distancing cushioning layer... a feeling as if I had descended into a sensual bliss characterized by some randy flavor of attractive unconsciousness... 
  • Which cushioning and opacity continued to deepen until I no longer had my bearings...
  • And I found myself enthusiastic about truly horrible and reprehensible behaviors and perspectives...
  • But as I noticed the extreme growth of my fingernails and toenails, and watched with fascination and a covert horror as they, graying and striated, curled back upon themselves...
  • and then: zap!
OK, I know what you are thinking (actually, I have no idea! presumptuous, deluded, myopic, self-referential...)  - that I squirreled myself into a cocoon of protective ignorance and decay, fueled by fear, vanity and delusion - only to be awakened by a luminous random or willful intercession - and you only need read further to be privy, to identify what brought this gift of release, of awakening... but you would be wrong.

No, dear reader (don't you hate that?) - I was not released, awakened, by a gifted intercession. To the contrary, I was poisoned. Self-poisoned, if you must know. And this I will further describe, haï lecteur - as soon as I can rub the sensation back into my wrists, scarred, chaffed and bruise-pocked as they are...

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This page contains a single entry by the false blogger published on December 23, 2008 10:56 AM.

Dead People Walking was the previous entry in this blog.

Poison, Poisson, Passion is the next entry in this blog.

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