idiosynCRAZY

Just when everything flows pretty well for me, I get
obstructed. Is it traffic or just
me? How many times have I been told that
things can never be consistent, and still I need a lesson or two to bang my
light head? Take soft comfy tissue which comes in a really good box for
example. You get it fresh from the
counter, inclusive of smell and what not. You use it. It is still tissue.
Only, it is not as soft, sweet and comfy as it used to be. Imagine what becomes of it. Gross? Yes, exactly.

If only I could freeze things. But when I actually try doing so, like every
time I try taking a lot of sugar to induce my good self a really good sleep, I
wake up and wander like I am some certain creature from Mars or Venus. Waking from a sleep alienates me. Sleep is a perfect pose for freezing. When I freeze things, I would eventually feel
stunted and rubbish. I just easily lose
myself. When you have spent a really
hard time training your analytical brain to drift away, then you would find
your self brainless great percent of your time.

Before I choke into my words, I would like to qualify this
feeling as reasonable. In the first
place, I felt this for some mechanical reasons. Power shortage could be mechanical. Too bad I just swore not to write about anything concrete today. I feel better disguising things in
words. Some things are really crispier
for my own consumption.

Since, my fingers are still itching to pound on the
keyboards, now let me just do something else. Let me describe the night.

12:15 am. This is my
witching hour. I sit myself in a
cushioned triangular elevation, or is it a bed? Above it is my laptop, some strewn up pieces of paper which are actually
hand-outs for my Tests and Measurements class, a piece of technology which is supposed
to receive calls and text messages, and my lazy ass in shorts.

The curtain does not totally obstruct my view. On my left
side is a window overlooking Casa Rosario. Is it a hotel or what? I can
actually see the balcony view. Some lights
on, others not.

“Welcome back”, I tell myself. I am somewhere safe again. I do not fear falling off from the gravity although
I do dread getting stuck in between cosmic cavities. I heard they eat you when you are not
ready. When you are too lax and
disheveled. This time, I am simply
intoxicated but loving the intoxication, the way I have never delighted on
anything in my entire 20 years of living. 

If I wake again my smothered self then I do succeed on
proving loss and silliness. I am not
stupid this time. I am just a little
jumpy. My heart is. My life is. 

Here goes crazy writing again. I miss this very much. The last time I did this, I had a
dumpster-overload of soiled clothes and mice under my bed. It was nightmare and I didn’t want to move
out from my covers. It was like waiting to grow mandrake roots, not cultured
but wild on my back to the mattress. Fatal slobness
 was always the best way to get away
from everything pretentious around me. To get away from laundry and to get away from unexplained paranoia. I almost was a hermit. But more like a lazy prick.

And now, I am happy. In love and happy. “Welcome back
self!”