Release the Kraken… 

I was doing so well. The happy kubuki mask firmly in place. But there is no noh mask today. Blame it on the rain, or 5 minutes too long in a crowd. Or maybe it’s just bad input causing static on my internal oscilloscope. Whatever it was it kicked me, bit me and scratched. It took my veneer and left a nasty gouge in the varnish. 

Hell is other people? No… Hell is other people in your head. Including the people that tell you not to worry about that. Fuck them most of all, your voice is the least helpful. 

Oh and fuck Batman day, falling doesn’t teach us to get back up again, it reminds us of how easy it is to take the skin off our knees. I’m acutely aware of how it feels to be raw, I don’t need further reminders. Falling just means you get hurt and your progress is set back. I know the skin will heal, but there will be scabs and eventually a scar to remind you. So many falls, so many scars. So many many scars. At some point there is the danger that you stop worrying about the falls and learn to find comfort in the scars. New scars mean you are still alive, but is that a good way to check? Don’t answer, because if you said yes you’ve got the issue I used to have, I say “used to” because I don’t want my inner narrative any more toxic than it already is… 

Tomorrow I will have the hangover that comes from stale adrenaline and bile stewing for an hour to many. I will make amends for those I have been the “other guy” to. I will let the scabs form and stay away from the gravel for a bit. There is so much gravel and so little grass in my life these days. That’s what happens when you pave instead of sow. But I still have a planter box I haven’t pissed in yet. So tomorrow I will water that. 

Please excuse the metaphor and similes they are for my clarity,  and the obscuration of others… 

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