Saturday, October 2, 2010

Don't get sentimental it always ends up drivel...

I walk through walls. I'm not here.
This isn't happening.
The drugs coursing through my blood are beautifully refreshing. Not too much, nor too little. Comfortably numb.
Why are we lamenting this?
Somewhere, I think in Zarathustra, Nietzsche says something to the effect of the valor of knowing when it is right to die.
We have microcosmic examples of this: the 'hospice' care industry is essentially a limbo stage in western moralized mortality: death is itself sedated, incapable of leaving last words for the tongue is restricted by feeding tubes, and too heavy anyway to actually form sound, let alone give voice to meaning. Out of focus, easy becomes hard (the sentimental effusion of what is properly mournful).
But if living feels like vivisection, if 'liveness' means something like the excruciating pain of the torturers knife, the horrible sight of skin cleaned from bone and body, the first fresh separation of skin from muscle, like a Band-aid off skinned-knees, and then the searing, clotting pain of pure loss, of exposure, of a shame that cannot be covered-over... if this is life, then why do we revere this fetish idol? If life is intensity, the sporadic, eruptive bursts of sensory over-load, of pain... whatever. Do you care?
No.
Time, chronology is my nemesis, Father Time.
I hurt so im-mediately (that is: so much so fast, so amplified so quickly, such humming so loudly) that the dialing down seems so prolonged, such a protracted intervention, that I barely can believe only one hour has passed.
Only 1 hour!?
One cursed hour.
And now I enter my second. But I want out quick. One more gin, one more toke, one more pill, one more, more, more, more, more...!!!!!!!
I fucking love this pill.
Sleep.
Now.
After gin. After.Juice. After deciding I cannot deal> tomorrow gets my distortion, my noise, my AHHHH!!!!! and sobs.
Oh!: hospices as a dignified way of dying in the Nietzschean sense; psycho-pharmacology as living the dignified life of an honorable slave (one who, at least, will BE DONE! without much hassle).
Bed.

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