Friday. Beer day. Pile that shit on, yo. Everybody's workin' for the weekend, right? Maredsous this evening. Pile it on, yes. I need the brown gold to somehow create the channel zero. Does that segment me into the 'he's got a problem/he can't deal' category? It is "off season" and man, I feel like I will never be fast, never be skinny, never be....waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!...young again. (you have permission when you see me to b-slap me for saying that). It is this incredible vicious circle that I can not seem to break out of these days with such intensity at work, that I am in an all out fire fight to combat the unbelievable dickness that seems to have engulfed my spirit. I will f-ing fight back. I will smash anything that gets in the way of my family or my spirit. Today I will keep in my pocket. I will take it out of my pocket like a stiletto when I need to and if I need to plunge it into the heart of the thing which presents itself smiling, with that smug smile it so often presents, while I look right at its smug eyes while it sinks in. "It" won't be so smug any more. I've tried, Lord I've tried, and it won't learn.

I like my world in its compartments. I admittedly fall apart when the compartments start to abut or, God forbid, bleed into each other. Chaos ensues. Herculean efforts to keep the compartments at bay but the reality is that the compartments are like giant cast iron boxes...as large as a house and they and I are on a pitching steel deck of a ship the size of the universe, the deck covered in grease, with me....arms outsretched, palms on each compartment...trying to keep them from colliding.

Too much. The deck is pitching too much. The iron boxes weigh too much. The grease, too slippery.

Chrissakes, why am I such a wuss. I think I may be manic.

Openers today to remove thoughts of compartments...or stillettos or...anything bad. Purge it. It ain't me. Taro in my head and it's not even the season. But to do them made me smile as it felt like fall even though it's spring and that was enough to proxy channel zero for the moment. And I didn;t even need to endure suffer-snow in my eyes. Crisp air in the early morning but enough sun that ensured all the black bits of my uniform warmed me up in those places. I love that.

High.

Low.

I guess this is the season.