I’ve been undeniably cranky lately. The past several weeks. It’s been either contagion and I got it from somewhere or I’m Patient Zero and spread it up and down to all the people who are porous around me (sorry, so sorry, I didn’t know I was giving you pinkeye on the Third one. At least is isn’t visible and people will still sit next to you on the bus). People I have noticed it in:
- Little gray asshole cat in the neighborhood (has taken to shitting on the fucking sidewalk, how dickish is that, can’t even be bothered to shit in the gutter or on the bare dirt around here, fucking little asshole cat)
Okay, I had listed three other people here, but I removed them, because I’m trying not to talk about other people. As long as you aren’t grumping at me, which they aren’t, I don’t mind. Have your feelings. Have away! Don’t take them out on me and we’re totally cool. There have been some miscommunications because grumpy people are more anxious and forgetful–this includes me–so I need to take that into account. But it’s more than just me, it’s a lot of people, which makes me think this is an emotional virus.
I think it’s starting to shift, though. At least for me.
I got a huge shift of creative energy the other day. Well, I got a huge burst of toxic energy (I felt like I was dying–don’t worry, this happens not infrequently to me), and then I had to go see Moms. But I was able to push this shit out of my psychic colon and paint this energetic poop on the walls of my own private asylum. I can use it for creative inspiration, is what I’m saying. So I’m onto a new, short-term project.
It’s shadow side, this project is, so I’ll be dipping my cup into the darkness a lot in the nearness. Next few weeks or month or so. That’s fine; it’ll give me a constructive channel for all the yechery. Maybe I’ll be less of an a-hole. Maybe. No promises.
The thing about taking on a new, highly energetic project: it hurts to do this. It’s like shedding a skin. It’s cutting the nails past the quick and bleeding. Losing teeth makes for the tender, bloody, pulpy spots, you know? That’s where the energy comes from. The energy comes from the parts of the body that don’t normally get exposed. It comes from the humors. The bile, blood, phlegm. Growth and creation hurt. If you don’t believe me, ask a pregnant lady. Hella them are fucked up crazy people. But you get a baby/work at the end of it, so hopefully you’re at least satisfied about the whole thing. Not always, but you know, there was at least some sort of payoff. Flu just sucks and then it sucks less and less until you can hold your head up without it feeling like it’s full of dirty rocks and motor oil.
This is good shit, is what I’m saying. But it’s way potent. I’m already having waking visions and sleeping dreams related to this project. I’m not taking more of the project on than I can handle (I guess, but probably not, I’m probably doing too much, letting it eat too much time), and I totally know my dealer (that’s not true, really; I have no idea where this shit comes from. Do you know the Muse? Or the energy of the universe? I fucking don’t. I feel it, and have only a rudimentary understanding of it), but still: creative energy is a helluva drug, man. Crazy-ass trip.
We’ll see how long there’s catshit on the sidewalk. That cat is a fucking nincompoop, really. No decency.