A Prayer For Solace Beneath The Sword of Damocles

I had a really shitty night last night, didn’t sleep like, at all. Basically laid up all night with my stomach hurting watching Simpsons episodes on low volume, occasionally getting up to puke all over my house. Fun stuff.

I’m pretty sure I have some kind of issue with my stomach that is tied to my medications and my prediliction for insomnia in intricate ways that make it impossible for my life to work in any sensible way. I woke up tired and angry and posted some nonsense about the world that was really a cry for a better culture, and life for myself. How is this going to get anything for anyone?

I realize I’m just adding to noise and frustration. I need to go back to some of the ways I started this blog, which was kind of daily reports on this *I* Want to Do. This *I* Want to Work ON.

I am about two thirds of the way through a very long book, ‘The Glass Bead Game’ by Herman Hesse, reading for my article on Timothy Leary, since it was kind of his bible of the Castelia foundation, one of his LSD cults. I need to finish reading that. It’s incredible, deep, complex, and has so many insights. Worlds away from the constant stream of news that my eyes skip around looking for something better to focus on. But when I woke up, I also woke up lonely. I connect to the stream out of that feeling so often. Because I see no way out most of the time. I should email back my friend who is having a rough time. I feel so useless.

I’ve been thinking about how my life was a long while ago more. Even though I have a block on so much of my youth. I yearn to be more social, more outgoing, more… really… connected.

I can’t fight bullshit for a living, or what ever I think I might be doing, because I’ll always be full of shit myself. I need something else.

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