Journal 25 - A Blue Ribbon Eunuch

The shadows crept along the wall and curled about
the shade of the inappropriate lamp for the brilliant
minds of yesteryear. Is it wrong that I just want
to toast a blue ribbon beer to a friend from the
other side of the proverbial pond? Each night sticks
like acid in the stomach or psilocybin in the shitty
shroom. It's hard to eyeball quantity in the round
purple-stalked shroom encased in a patty of
moist cow shit. Juice can be made for amateurs.
But sardonic laughter falls close to the tree when
someone who graduated to professional drug addict
has the opportunity to ridicule a future cell mate
(whether physical or mental) – puffing up his joint
and his head. I need to visit the sea and stick
my oval head underneath the heavy comforter of
the water and smile like a lover upon seeing his
beloved risen from the murky deeps. Murky deeps -
clichés can't escape my attention deficit mind -
I need it seems a pill to undo my mind's erratic
and debilitating behavior. I did not know pills
could re-do so many. My niece lists her pink
pacifier as her prized possession and guards it like
a gold diamond necklace – she is 7. It's okay though -
she lost her father before she could stand. Perhaps a
primary-colored pill could revert the proper path-
finding chemicals to the rainbow stream of
well-connected neurons and easy-firing synapses.
Ah, synapses, synaptic cleft – listen to me, I'm
so intelligent. Next I will dazzle you with words
like bereft and conducive. Or speak insipidly about
strings and worm holes. Electrons have free-will
they say – that is, if we have free will. They
can also be in two places at once though – we, not
so much. An army of errant electrons is driving my
material soul to the brink of a grand theological
realization – I just need to realize it. Insights
are like the no-seeums down South. I must have
been born with a skin oil of OFF for insights.
High idea productivity – just not good ones.
An intellectual eunuch.


3.23.09