Showing posts with label mixed state. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mixed state. Show all posts
5.11.2009
act one: because i know, i see
images, neutral at worst, my mind transform: bucolic setting, small family-owned farm, shiny white Holsteins, spotted childlike in tempera-black, ruminating graciously in the pasture, turn industrial feedlot, abattoir close enough for other soylent Herefords to hear the wails of the slaughter. brooks springing in their prairie, becomes retention pond, biological toxic waste stew, seasoned with antibiotics, simmering in the sun.
1.06.2008
as i read Jane Eyre again
i reach the part where mental illness is referenced as ¡lunacy! ¡depravity ¡madness! Brontë's writing consumes me, but in doing so soothes, for no longer is mental illness defined as lunacy, depravity, madness.
5.10.2007
act two: so plain to see, so easy to ignore
we have become conditioned to ignore
ignorance is bliss
a blissful existence is addictive
addiction is hell to break
hell is to vomit shiver convulse yourself back to reality
ignorance is bliss
a blissful existence is addictive
addiction is hell to break
hell is to vomit shiver convulse yourself back to reality
11.30.2006
Survival Mode
-00:47:00
Sit through meeting I declined but to which I was “re-invited.” Know its outcome beforehand; know it will devolve into what it does: commiseration.
-00:24:00
All agree on what has to be done, yet cannot do. I, operating on three hours of sleep, burst out the futility of the meeting.
-00:20:00
Leave room. Immediately regret. Print four copies of “sorry” note and place on attendees desks.
00:00:00
Hope I can rely on my [Jane’s-Addiction-]-“Ritual-[-de-lo-Habitual”] to cleanse myself through physical energy departing my body, my mitochondrion, doing their best to convert into ATP whatever glucose my bloodstream carries, so that my muscles can mindlessly but purposefully burn it. But I have so neglected myself as of late. Depress Start.
+00:08:00
I shut my eyes.
+00:16:00
In the middle of a DJ Shah mix these words fade over the pulsing:
“…It's touching life, it's touching life, it's touching, and it's touching life,
Imagine the silence of light,
Full of texture, full of color, starry lights,
As the moon suspended in the night,
See it, finally everything.
It's breathing life, it's breathing life, it's breathing life.
Looking through the window glass,
I see a glimpse of heaven,
And it’s so beautiful, I want it.
Looking thorough the window glass,
I see a glimpse of heaven,
And it’s so beautiful,
That I want it inside of me,
Of me, of me, of me, of me. I want it.
As if on cue…
+00:17:00
…this is not happening. It has been so long….and I have longed to touch it—at least—enter it if I am worthy, deserving: the zone. I do. Briefly. Once, twice, thrice…
+00:20:00
In full automutilation mode; throb of music through my veins; eyes shut still; motion in balance, no degradation. I have kept balance while stepping as I have learned to do. Chug, once, twice. Return drinking vessel to its receptacle.
+00:30:00
Reverse direction, increase slope x 6. Reduce resistance x 2. I usually alter settings more often, but today is “special.”
+00:31:34
Shift speed as the beat transitions from one song to another, masterfully cross faded by Shah. An unfortunate glimpse reminds me I am still here. EFX display reads 175 Watts (2 x 60 W E26 Medium Edison Screw light bulbs, 1 x 40 W ceiling fan E26, and 1 x F25T12 Fluorescent lamp (I usually power 2x100 W flood lamps +/- a handful of E12 Candelabra-Screw nightlights).
+00:38:00
Have entered and exited the zone at least eight times for a total duration of one minute and a half. Not the zone core, not full consciousness/loss of consciousness of self, but satisfying nonetheless. I can feel it: my facial muscles have relaxed from a frown to an incipient smile. Been too long without it, longed for it so, have I. Do not believe myself to possess an addictive personality, but this is beyond addiction: this is biological need. Although I feel so, I still lapse, behavior shifting to the opposite extreme—total disregard for self.
+00:41:00
Hear myself think “nothing matters, nothing matters, nothing matters” at half the tempo of the music. Nothing else occupies my mind. This is it. Just my voice and silence. The zone. I am my own church. church, my religion I am. LaVey-Satanic as it sounds, I know this is more like what Buddhist chanting, the rosary prayer, the Allahu Akbar (Allah is Great) mantra accomplish.
+00:46:00
For crap’s sake! Eyes shut still, I depress Reset in error. EFX display flashes workout stats as I frantically attempt to restart. Opt for Quick Start. Litre bottle is now empty.
+01:04:00
EFX display reads 1.80 miles, 195 kcal, 18:00 Min, I think. Music has stopped too suddenly for me to transition coherently to reality. My Polar reads HR 154 BPM aver., 172 max. Interpolate for missing values and determine totals to be approximately 5.5 miles and 600 kcal. Respectable, considering.
+01:27:00
Walk to work in a smiley, happy daze. A tinge of plantar fasciitis awakens in my left foot. Pain will linger through the day, despite meds. Irrelevant; actually it is good to feel.
+01:42:00
Nipples are sore. Did not anticipate such long a session. Had I known, I would have worn poly instead of cotton.
+01:42:49
Ouch! Should cover them with Band-Aids (flashback - 7 years when I covered nipple piercing during physical exam—glad piercing was out + 3 years for an MRI!).
+02:00:00
Two litres of water later… no food. Pee very yellow. Feel life.
+02:50:00
Three bananas later, 800 mg Ibu., and half a litre of water more, I feel partially replenished, but am still peeing yellow. Must continue to push water through.
+03:23:00
Ibu. kicks in. Left plantar fascia ceases to bother. Feel the urge to run my favorite x-country trail later. No music this time, just the quiet, layered with my breath and remixed with my heartbeat…and if I am lucky a redrum track of percussive rain on leaves, resampled and looped with the sub-range neuronal electric activity thunder of my gustatory papillae signaling to my brain the saltiness of rain + sweat mix.
+03:30:00
Ravenously devour a slice of whole wheat bread. Rain falls lightly outside. Two more hours.
+03:42:00
Brita-filter another litre of fluoridated swill into my reused PETE bottle. Almost there, almost time.
+04:15:00
Pee is less yellow, still not clear enough. Chug more water. Take a sip of leftover cold decaf. Clean-up. GTG.
+05:00:00
Suck down the rest of the decaf. Go pee.
+5:30
b y e .
Sit through meeting I declined but to which I was “re-invited.” Know its outcome beforehand; know it will devolve into what it does: commiseration.
-00:24:00
All agree on what has to be done, yet cannot do. I, operating on three hours of sleep, burst out the futility of the meeting.
-00:20:00
Leave room. Immediately regret. Print four copies of “sorry” note and place on attendees desks.
00:00:00
Hope I can rely on my [Jane’s-Addiction-]-“Ritual-[-de-lo-Habitual”] to cleanse myself through physical energy departing my body, my mitochondrion, doing their best to convert into ATP whatever glucose my bloodstream carries, so that my muscles can mindlessly but purposefully burn it. But I have so neglected myself as of late. Depress Start.
+00:08:00
I shut my eyes.
+00:16:00
In the middle of a DJ Shah mix these words fade over the pulsing:
“…It's touching life, it's touching life, it's touching, and it's touching life,
Imagine the silence of light,
Full of texture, full of color, starry lights,
As the moon suspended in the night,
See it, finally everything.
It's breathing life, it's breathing life, it's breathing life.
Looking through the window glass,
I see a glimpse of heaven,
And it’s so beautiful, I want it.
Looking thorough the window glass,
I see a glimpse of heaven,
And it’s so beautiful,
That I want it inside of me,
Of me, of me, of me, of me. I want it.
As if on cue…
+00:17:00
…this is not happening. It has been so long….and I have longed to touch it—at least—enter it if I am worthy, deserving: the zone. I do. Briefly. Once, twice, thrice…
+00:20:00
In full automutilation mode; throb of music through my veins; eyes shut still; motion in balance, no degradation. I have kept balance while stepping as I have learned to do. Chug, once, twice. Return drinking vessel to its receptacle.
+00:30:00
Reverse direction, increase slope x 6. Reduce resistance x 2. I usually alter settings more often, but today is “special.”
+00:31:34
Shift speed as the beat transitions from one song to another, masterfully cross faded by Shah. An unfortunate glimpse reminds me I am still here. EFX display reads 175 Watts (2 x 60 W E26 Medium Edison Screw light bulbs, 1 x 40 W ceiling fan E26, and 1 x F25T12 Fluorescent lamp (I usually power 2x100 W flood lamps +/- a handful of E12 Candelabra-Screw nightlights).
+00:38:00
Have entered and exited the zone at least eight times for a total duration of one minute and a half. Not the zone core, not full consciousness/loss of consciousness of self, but satisfying nonetheless. I can feel it: my facial muscles have relaxed from a frown to an incipient smile. Been too long without it, longed for it so, have I. Do not believe myself to possess an addictive personality, but this is beyond addiction: this is biological need. Although I feel so, I still lapse, behavior shifting to the opposite extreme—total disregard for self.
+00:41:00
Hear myself think “nothing matters, nothing matters, nothing matters” at half the tempo of the music. Nothing else occupies my mind. This is it. Just my voice and silence. The zone. I am my own church. church, my religion I am. LaVey-Satanic as it sounds, I know this is more like what Buddhist chanting, the rosary prayer, the Allahu Akbar (Allah is Great) mantra accomplish.
+00:46:00
For crap’s sake! Eyes shut still, I depress Reset in error. EFX display flashes workout stats as I frantically attempt to restart. Opt for Quick Start. Litre bottle is now empty.
+01:04:00
EFX display reads 1.80 miles, 195 kcal, 18:00 Min, I think. Music has stopped too suddenly for me to transition coherently to reality. My Polar reads HR 154 BPM aver., 172 max. Interpolate for missing values and determine totals to be approximately 5.5 miles and 600 kcal. Respectable, considering.
+01:27:00
Walk to work in a smiley, happy daze. A tinge of plantar fasciitis awakens in my left foot. Pain will linger through the day, despite meds. Irrelevant; actually it is good to feel.
+01:42:00
Nipples are sore. Did not anticipate such long a session. Had I known, I would have worn poly instead of cotton.
+01:42:49
Ouch! Should cover them with Band-Aids (flashback - 7 years when I covered nipple piercing during physical exam—glad piercing was out + 3 years for an MRI!).
+02:00:00
Two litres of water later… no food. Pee very yellow. Feel life.
+02:50:00
Three bananas later, 800 mg Ibu., and half a litre of water more, I feel partially replenished, but am still peeing yellow. Must continue to push water through.
+03:23:00
Ibu. kicks in. Left plantar fascia ceases to bother. Feel the urge to run my favorite x-country trail later. No music this time, just the quiet, layered with my breath and remixed with my heartbeat…and if I am lucky a redrum track of percussive rain on leaves, resampled and looped with the sub-range neuronal electric activity thunder of my gustatory papillae signaling to my brain the saltiness of rain + sweat mix.
+03:30:00
Ravenously devour a slice of whole wheat bread. Rain falls lightly outside. Two more hours.
+03:42:00
Brita-filter another litre of fluoridated swill into my reused PETE bottle. Almost there, almost time.
+04:15:00
Pee is less yellow, still not clear enough. Chug more water. Take a sip of leftover cold decaf. Clean-up. GTG.
+05:00:00
Suck down the rest of the decaf. Go pee.
+5:30
b y e .
10.28.2006
two hours and 20 minutes
the drive. the why. the fortune of sound. absence of else. rain, it did not stop. the day (morning?) before, up until three. the rain did not stop. low clouds. splatter on the windshield, droning, and in the dark, later that night, refracting any light, breaking it down into 32 bit color depth. yet with my 16MB-video-card-memory state of mind, making it hard to see, think. worry. worry for safety--why not: today is not t h e day. blurry. blurring. my mind, my vision, my perspective, my feelings.
the fortune of sound. the absence of else. softer than usual. it seemed appropriate. softer in level, harder impact. i lie: it always hits hard. impact. bass. consciousness lost. consciousness at the edge. battery. hocico. amduscia. blutengel. so many, so different. so, not what i remember. the days of love spirals downwards, calva y nada, coil, sisters of mercy. evolved. like i.
the fortune of sound. the absence of else. softer than usual. it seemed appropriate. softer in level, harder impact. i lie: it always hits hard. impact. bass. consciousness lost. consciousness at the edge. battery. hocico. amduscia. blutengel. so many, so different. so, not what i remember. the days of love spirals downwards, calva y nada, coil, sisters of mercy. evolved. like i.
10.24.2006
Equanimity
I feel so alive, but at the same time so vulnerable and maybe dead. I feel the loss of energy, the descent into demise--or what could be so. Yet I feel. The depth of the feeling, the awareness of self. Full, complete. Anything is possible here. Supernatural feats that defy imagination, not yet accomplished, not yet imagined. I do not know, for they are not imagined. I just know that I feel.
Hunger. Awareness. Body. Perception. Push. Challenge. Towards the unknown. I can now do more than I could before. In some respects, I feel better than I did before. Hunger the drive. Hunger that drives. The drive of hunger. A physical sensation. Energy saps, you feel, unmistakable feeling. No confusion whatever. Low blood sugar headache, brain trying to do its best to do its job. Energy drain. Motion reduced. Awareness. Consciousness.
Feats of incredible force, expenditure of incredible resources not supported by equal intake. One fourth driving one whole. Three hundred in 1500 hundred out. And the awareness, the know. The drive. Pushing toward that unknown. Eyes closed, balance in test, feats not easily accomplished. Eyes closed, world shut out. Nothing beyond. No noise, isolation. Beats pumping, ears drumming. And stalwart I proceed, unaware of outside, aware of inside. I do not question, I savor. I know.
This is not The Zone. I know what that is not knowing it fully. I have skirted it, toyed with it, briefly entered it. There is nothing like it. Fleeting for me; maybe less so some day. No. This is not The Zone. I linger here. I elate here, but not like there. I like it there like I like it here. I cannot compare, why should I dare? The Zone is one, this is two. Perhaps this is one, and the Zone is two. In any event, I enlighten. I relish. I feel. I live.
Hunger. Awareness. Body. Perception. Push. Challenge. Towards the unknown. I can now do more than I could before. In some respects, I feel better than I did before. Hunger the drive. Hunger that drives. The drive of hunger. A physical sensation. Energy saps, you feel, unmistakable feeling. No confusion whatever. Low blood sugar headache, brain trying to do its best to do its job. Energy drain. Motion reduced. Awareness. Consciousness.
Feats of incredible force, expenditure of incredible resources not supported by equal intake. One fourth driving one whole. Three hundred in 1500 hundred out. And the awareness, the know. The drive. Pushing toward that unknown. Eyes closed, balance in test, feats not easily accomplished. Eyes closed, world shut out. Nothing beyond. No noise, isolation. Beats pumping, ears drumming. And stalwart I proceed, unaware of outside, aware of inside. I do not question, I savor. I know.
This is not The Zone. I know what that is not knowing it fully. I have skirted it, toyed with it, briefly entered it. There is nothing like it. Fleeting for me; maybe less so some day. No. This is not The Zone. I linger here. I elate here, but not like there. I like it there like I like it here. I cannot compare, why should I dare? The Zone is one, this is two. Perhaps this is one, and the Zone is two. In any event, I enlighten. I relish. I feel. I live.
10.20.2006
Sanctum @ 160 BPM
Not at peak, yet bliss nonetheless.
Felicity through deprivation.
Depravity. I crouch and reflect, two river-smoothed pebbles circling in my hand, like Bogart in the Caine. Sunset.
Felicity through deprivation.
Depravity. I crouch and reflect, two river-smoothed pebbles circling in my hand, like Bogart in the Caine. Sunset.
9.29.2006
With rapid cycles, tomorrow will not matter
Tomorrow will be too late. It will have all passed then. I just hope I can make it through the rest of the day without incident. A call, a simple call. An ear to listen, a heart to understand. The trigger? Who knows. The music? The growing frustration?
It is difficult to understand, I know. And I know he says he does. I say sorry. I have always said sorry--probably more than needed--for this and other things. I am used to it. It does not matter. It has become part of my life, my routine. Despite what he says, I do not, I cannot fully believe he understands. I think he wants to see a wound, a physical sign of the damage. I sometimes wish that too. It would make it easy to explain, others would find it easy to understand.
Now I have the double burden of surviving this, and hiding it as well as I can. And despite all I say, and how hard I try, it weighs on me. How could it not? Yet I let him go, get off the phone, move on with his routine, because perhaps that is how he copes, that is all he can do. More than anything *tears welling in my eyes* I want to believe him when he says he understands. More than anything...
Yes, it will pass; it will pass as it always does, thank goodness for that *tears again.* I do not wish it to pass forever in the terminal sense of it, really I do not, but it sure would be nice to feel normal, level again.
It is difficult to understand, I know. And I know he says he does. I say sorry. I have always said sorry--probably more than needed--for this and other things. I am used to it. It does not matter. It has become part of my life, my routine. Despite what he says, I do not, I cannot fully believe he understands. I think he wants to see a wound, a physical sign of the damage. I sometimes wish that too. It would make it easy to explain, others would find it easy to understand.
Now I have the double burden of surviving this, and hiding it as well as I can. And despite all I say, and how hard I try, it weighs on me. How could it not? Yet I let him go, get off the phone, move on with his routine, because perhaps that is how he copes, that is all he can do. More than anything *tears welling in my eyes* I want to believe him when he says he understands. More than anything...
Yes, it will pass; it will pass as it always does, thank goodness for that *tears again.* I do not wish it to pass forever in the terminal sense of it, really I do not, but it sure would be nice to feel normal, level again.
7.08.2005
Excusa?
Strange feelings today to reminisce, look back, look forward. Her mind still wanders. She finds herself going sequentially deeper into the next thought based on the previous one, building on each other until the most distant is forgotten, or hard to go back to. Sometimes, depending on the number of levels she has travelled, she can recall the previous ones; sometimes, she cannot. "Then again," she thinks "it is early morning: medication may not have fully kicked in."
6.20.2005
Dose
"...but then again, there is exhilaration in the change to the day to day routine. chaos engenders excitement, an that is what i need right now," she says to a stupefied walker-by: talking to oneself: the ongoing exercise of the mind-altered--at least in theory.
forecast for today: mixed feelings through the day with the chance of an occasional tear shower. highs in the mid-freakies, but it will actually feel much worse. for allergy sufferers, rhetorical-question count will be in the red zone. the ultraviolence index will remain relatively low (thank goodness).
forecast for today: mixed feelings through the day with the chance of an occasional tear shower. highs in the mid-freakies, but it will actually feel much worse. for allergy sufferers, rhetorical-question count will be in the red zone. the ultraviolence index will remain relatively low (thank goodness).
6.18.2005
"Day after pill"
"I hope I feel better today," she mutters to herself, as the rest of her family enjoys a semi-quiet late breakfast downstairs. Thoughts of past relationships shoot through her mind like a 5.56 mm round ricocheting in her skull.
6.17.2005
"No Future" by the Sex Pistols
As she was listening attentively, she realized that her future was in the hands of others. Alea jacta est. Outcomes of discussions above her level would decide the future course of everything around her. Though unprepared, she did not panic. "Meds providing some of the intended results," she thought. "Es Viernes, after all." What else could she ask for.
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