“…heroin drip, no more so…”

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I’ve written, a few times, about the rupturing of my appendix and its repercussions on me.

 

The pain.

 

The abject agony.

 

But, most of all, the beauty and wonder of Dilaudid (Hydromorphone Hydrochloride).

 

 

 

With all of the above firmly in mind, I’m compelled to say that the song accompanying this post wrenches a bitter smile from me.

 

While listening to it, I think of how I was a (barely) functional alcoholic for at least five years.

 

[Selena Gomez: “I know I’m acting a bit crazy…”]

 

While carefully perceiving every lyric, I reminisce on what a joy the drug they pumped into me twice a day was.

 

[“…strung out, a little bit hazy…”]

 

 

 

Even now – sipping whiskey and dragging off of a cigarette –  as the song pulses through my headphones, thinking on how many would say I never learn and how my behavior is self-destructive.

 

Counter-productive.

 

Downright foolish.

 

[“… hand over heart I’m prayin’, that I’m going to make it out alive…”]

 

 

 

Yet, simultaneously, her words have ~239,509,552 views.

 

~1,606,708 “likes”.

 

As most reading this are inclined to think I’m a pathetic excuse for an adult.

 

[“Save your advice, ’cause I won’t hear

 

you might be right, but I don’t care.

 

There’s a million reasons why I should give you up…”]

 

Thus, I state, in a pleading and shaking voice:

 

My veins want what they want.

 

 

 

Heh.

 

Just kidding.

 

Even I don’t buy my bullshit reason.

 

Funny how many buy her’s.

 

 

 

 

 

Ω

“…’Tell me, mother, will I die?’ ‘Yes, my child, and so shall I’…”

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There is a great deal about flowers that fascinate me.

 

Their vibrant colors.

 

Their aroma.

 

Their texture.

 

Even their ephemeral nature.

 

 

 

However, while certainly appealing, life-affirming and sometimes nigh on hypnotic—

 

Flowers are not altruistic.

 

They haven’t developed their charms simply for the sake of them.

 

Or for the sole goal of pleasing the viewer.

 

 

 

Now, as much as I may enjoy them (and I certainly do), I don’t forget an important biological fact:

 

They create a form, an image and overall powerful impression of enticement for a purpose.

 

That purpose is to get certain needs of the plant met.

 

Reproduction being chief among them.

 

 

 

See, nature has granted wiles to life that is at the mercy of the whims of stronger creatures.

 

And, so very well have these attractive things weaved their magick—

 

Much of the world has slipped, like the Lotophagi, into the dream that they are not the one’s being used.

 

Blissful in their torpor.

 

 

 

 

 

Ω

“The look on your face don’t deceive me; I told you before, so believe me…”

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After we’ve been dating for a few weeks, I take a moment that is pleasant – not exciting, dramatic or particularly memorable – but pleasant.

 

Then stop it with gentleness and firmness.

 

Looking her in the eyes, holding her gaze – like a father would his child – I say:

 

You know, if you’re ever discontent here (in this relationship) or feel you could do better—

 

I want you to leave.

 

 

 

I give her a moment to grasp the statement.

 

Then I go on with the day.

 

I’ve done this with more than one woman.

 

And I’ll do it with every one of them until the day I die.

 

 

 

I make this proclamation to her/them for a few reasons:

 

1} Women, being the ultimate pragmatists, will do it anyway.

 

Thus, my words are actually of little consequence.

 

2} Speaking such aloud is an icy reminder for myself that – at the end of the day – we are together at her whim.

 

Nothing more; nothing less.

 

3} It puts the frame under my control, even when it’s not.

 

In fact, especially when it’s not.

 

 

 

Permit me to be clear, the sincerity of my statement is total.

 

Regardless of my reasons.

 

I Truly want her contentment.

 

And I very much want her gone if I’m not her primary concern.

 

 

 

Personally, I find it best to play with all my cards on the table.

 

Since I only need one.

 

 

 

 

 

Ω

Absence Makes The Heart Grow Emptier

This man understands me.

No doubt.

Donal Graeme

Background: One of the deepest writers in the entire ‘sphere also happens to be one of those who writes the least: Ace of Spades. His posts can sometimes be just a few short sentences in length, spaced apart by the occasional break. When added together they rarely amount to more than a paragraph or two. However, each word is fraught with meaning (almost always on multiple levels), and he can accomplish with a few lines what others need an essay to convey. Yet the insight he hopes to convey isn’t always obvious, and all of his posts need to be “unpacked” (or unzipped, to use computer terminology) to some degree. I’ve unpacked posts of his before, and he expressed appreciation for my effort. At the same time he asked me to make similar efforts in the future, and this post follows in that path.

The post I want…

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