The weekly chronicles of a frantic, sleepless, and overworked chronic insomniac’s mind.
Read at your own risk.
It all begins in the morning. Every morning.
A bitter cup of life; a handful of sugar twirling in circles, dancing with and embracing four shots of mayhem. Espresso on the rocks, stirred not shaken. Twelve ounces of manic energy, courtesy of the Laughing Goat.
A sweet kiss of death; a handful of Parliaments in need of tender loving care, waiting for my lungs and lips. The ‘soldier’s cigarette’ , drawn not dragged. Three coffin nails of malefic evils, courtesy of my addiction.
All councils, as mandated by my melancholy, are to be undertaken in beautiful areas of nature that are vibrant with color and resonant with serenity…for juxtaposing purposes.
For a poetic oomph or an intellectual hmm, place both feet on the pedal of pessimism on the highway of self-righteousness. For added mental clarity and conclusive thought processes, detach the brakes of false objectivity. Keep hand-brake available for sudden and often tight bends as the highway does cross multiple intersections of impractical hatred and bigoted rejectionism.
‘Drive Safely’ is my co-pilot’s precaution, my mind’s warning sign,right before me, myself and I embark on this mental journey towards—Anhedonia. Where all the magic takes place. My imagined and, might I add, well constructed mental getaway where I live most of my thoughts.
The Sinless City, dubbed by the inhabitants, my deepest of thoughts, is where said councils take place. Where I, and all that is me, assemble to silently discuss the ills and terrors of life as well as the wonders and joys of living. Where I, and all that is me, administer the faculties of my being to their designated functions.
Within these faculties, the ministries of my existence, my self as a sovereign polity governed by nature, nurture, the selves and God Almighty, are put to work. These mental agents, all the networking in the state of me, rule collaboratively and collectively in the aim of maintaining my sanity. Sanity is also the name of my bicycle on which I ride a thin line between desolation and triumph.
Triumph, here, isn’t necessarily to prosper but more of a barely-get-by life mission with the state’s slogan and first line of the national anthem being “someone put a bullet in my head but not now, I’m busy”. However, the logistics of the nation is a topic for another council.
Stay tuned, my lovelies, the council continues next week.
Until then, I leave you with a quote to contemplate on:
The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis. — Dante Alighieri
Photo Credit: Phil Cho