Swallow Your Soul

Do you ever feel like you've painted yourself into a corner and it's turned to red hot magma that will melt your feet if you take three steps over to where your bed is looking so cozy and inviting? Why didn't I wear my asbestos shoes? It seemed like such a good plan when I started, but the flaws become conspicuous now. At first I thought I was surrounded by frickin' idiots too lost in their own trivia to appreciate mine, but maybe nothingness is NOT an acquired taste.

Maybe none of these words really go together. Perhaps it's like Frank Lloyd Wright's prairie period - if Volvo made houses... Or maybe I'm just Stephen Dedalus without an alter-alter ego to rage against. A man of genius makes no mistakes - they're portals of discovery which either makes me Magellan or plainly simple. Simply complex? Conflict! I need more conflict. Maybe some Fleurs du Mal? What is this glory in not being understood? Great men are stupid or maybe just not so great. True greatness comes from de profundis or witty repartee or both simultaneously.

Groovy! (baby?)