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New innocence lost.

Fearing for the worst, but knowing it will get better somehow… the lackluster attempts to bolster a new outlook after a successful surgery as i get periodically doped up, but on Saturday i was feeling way better than i had in a long time… a vasectomy is much better than a lobotomy, i suppose, as i can be more aware of the changes that will occur as time goes on… the day in question i spent most of by myself while the rest of my “pack” went to celebrate their belated birthdays with each other, and stayed and cleaned while on the mild pain killers and the last harvested wretches of resin left, of course i lazed as i realized i had a lot of time to play with in my recovery process… i figured that maybe i would try to manage my artistic projects in the interim, and i played guitar and sang like a rock star then, however it was unorganized even as i noted that i needed to keep that feeling together in memory so as not to lose this potent realization… that was the feeling of not constraining the feelings into a bubble in my chest, to not lose the overwhelming sense of well-being i wanted to feel whenever i played, and i soon accosted myself with thoughts of what had happened to bring this moment….i cried then with the guitar in my hands still playing to the music… the sick feeling finally hit me hard, and all i could do was lay on the couch in a daze while viewing bits of shows i wanted to see, i grew restless again though… in and out of slight bouts with unconsciousness as sat there, but i was never ready to pass out yet, though there are bits and pieces i don’t remember to the movies i saw… however, i will not forget that inspiration hit like a brick upside my head that day, and it is going to carry over to many more days as they come….of that i am sure… i do wonder where the next step will take us, and if we are all truly ready, probably not this time around… although i believe there is always the chase to move about within the time lines of my characters, perhaps developing a more profound sense of being for each epic movement of their limbs, and maybe this could be seen from the perspective of the conscious ants we are from below… a sight from the shadow spots just behind the eyes of titans, the mind as low to the ground as the feet perhaps, and then we listen as the roar grows louder still… the thunder beneath the feet of titans, but suppose there is a fatal flaw in this wider view, this overwhelming noise and titanic vision becomes a veil enveloping our senses to distract away from the nearing end of a particular phase to life as we know it… some, and they are too few, see it for what it is and cannot stop repeating the message… the glory of a demiurge damns us all, and it is this dire strait that plunges us through our metaphysical baptismal flare into reality’s gateway, fighting against the raging mainstream that everyone else seems to be following… leading the next group of experimental eyes to move forward further, almost lemming-like into the unknown vast of humanity, and with virtually no compass to guide by except the animal intuition balancing the will of mind… is there ever really a hopeless future?… can there ever be?… the adaptive mingling our consciousness does, seeding the human form into action, but without the means to do more than survive it seems to me…

Thanks, khet.