Now when I get all tangled up in my bad wires, I know where to go to fix it. I used all the time to pour alcohol over the motor to try to slow it down, tamp down the flames, grease the bound gears, ameliorate some of the badness. Not to say I don’t never do that now, I still do sometimes, sure, but less and less with an idea that it might help anything. Mostly now I do it just for the drinking, not thinking it will fix or delay or improve any badness in me. Not thinking that.

But, no, now I have this other thing. I can drag myself out to the lair and have a nice long sit and take a look under the hood. Like a backyard mechanic, working on some stuck valves under the shade trees. I used to be fairly convinced that I felt bad because there was something out there that was wrong, that if I could somehow grab onto it and make it be like I wanted, why then, I’d be right as rain. It never dawned on me that even when I could fix the one thing, then three more other fucked-up things would spring up to take the first one’s place. Maybe it did. Maybe I noticed it, but I still went after it like it was that thing out there was causing me all this grief.

Of course it were me all along. My ego wanting things, whispering to me, cajoling me, getting mean and shitty with me, taking my thoughts and emotions hostage until I did what it demanded.


And never satisfied, not for one second.


‘Okay, yeah, yeah, but now, now, now there’s this other thing what about that what are you gonna do about that, huh?’


It never will shut up.



So at least now I know it. Now I know what’s going on. The problem really is under the hood, not outside. And when I sit and watch carefully, I can actually see it at work. See that fuckin’ crafty ego of mine, busy day and night, fucking me over. Telling me to get all nervous about this thing over here, and I’d better start resenting this other thing over there, and I should be pretty mad, shouldn’t I, don’t you think it’s fucked up what they did to you over here? Huh? Huh? You listening to me?


Seriously, man, it’s fuckin’ funny after a while.



I just love to sit. I get a deep pleasure out of it.


That is of benefit to my broken mind is just icing on the cake.




It’s like a hundred and thirty nine in the shade today.