The Simple Life
I love that they said 'Space Aliens' to distinguish it from Illegals.
Well, it's week 3 of 2007 and I continue to try and steady the good ship (or bad ship, I don't care) Basil as best I can. The key so far has been in keeping everything simple. No social excursions, no big plans of any sort and no, repeat no thinking of the past or the future in any evaluative or speculative capacity.
I'm someone who's used to letting his mind wander and allowing my whims to suggest things for me to do, in order to amuse myself and others around me. No more of that. I can't handle the deluge of sound and light and words and motives that are floating around me. For the sake of my sanity, I need as small and quiet a world as possible.
Today, I saw a woman on the train. Reading. A menu.
Today and yesterday have been kind of shitty. As usual, my sleep problems persist bringing with them bouts of extended consciousness that continue to gnaw on my already fragile psyche. Everything rolls around in my head until I'm dizzy looking at past scenes of futility and missed opportunities. I want it to stop but it's like my brain doesn't have an off switch. If you've ever had a computer (stupid question unless you're reading this blog because it's been serialized by the New York Times), you'll be familiar with moments when the fan in some of the older PCs starts whirring loudly, enough to alarm you into backing up all your data because you think the hard drive's going to have a meltdown. That's exactly how I feel
My hard drive is fine but the CPU doesn't agree and raises false alarm signals like putting the fan on overdrive. Manifesting itself in crazy symtpoms like constant anxiety, nervous tics, a total absence of energy and an inability to continue with any single train of thought. I'm a mess most of the time, these days and all I can do is go home, sit in my couch and sip Chinese Hot and Sour soup.
This year hasn't been as bad as previous years (last year was particularly awful) so I guess there's that to be thankful about. And whereas in the past, I've gotten angry with myself for being weak and succumbing to my own anxieties, I'm now just resigned and bemused by the whole thing. I am what I am (or is what I is, which sounds better) and I've accepted my inability to drag myself to a better place. All I can do is tread water and hope that the tide will lead me to a hospitable land.
Just so tired. It sucks that all this time is being wasted while I wait for basic normalcy to resume so I can do something productive with my life. Always with the knowledge that at any time, I could have a meltdown and go scurrying back to my dingy little apartment in Queens, far from the piercing gaze of a relentless world.