Definition of a Bad Start (Notes in the Moleskine, 3 a.m.)

21 Aug

Wake up and step into a pool of molasses and quicksand right off the side of the bed. Big jolt of this unbearable lava jars the senses and I try to breathe, but nothing works. Choked from the smoke. Skin is peeling off. The stench of charred epidermis and stress triggers a migraine. Visual symptoms. White lightning discharges down into the eyes. Nausea. Language center doesn’t work. Struggle to get words out. Must be what it feels like after a stroke. And then being passed off, as if pushed through a gauntlet, being touched by moist hands, sweaty hands, dry hands, diseased hands, being spit upon, vomited upon, moving down the fleshy tunnel fast now. It never ends, there’s no light. It’s a myth. I am the son of Aeolus. No, of Helen. No, of Poseidon. No, of Hippotes. Start this bloody day already.


3 Responses to “Definition of a Bad Start (Notes in the Moleskine, 3 a.m.)”

  1. slyboots2 21/08/2007 at 2:38 PM #

    This is exactly what I take high-tech pharmaceuticals for. And call in sick. Because those pharmaceuticals render me unfit for human co-habitation.

  2. Blue Skelton 21/08/2007 at 4:08 PM #

    I’ve had a few mornings like that myself but its been better ever since I quit drinking. What did you think of hairspray?

  3. Lx 22/08/2007 at 12:34 PM #

    sly, can’t do the drogas. they make me indifferent.

    blue, john waters’ version is great. this new one with travolta playing divine’s role? not so much.

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